#I’ll probably not pick the dress because I have a really fucking creepy cousin

[mer-se]

ah, we’ve once again arrived at the ol’ lesbian wake outfit dilemma it’s always pinstripe pants tank top blazer combo vs dress and cute shoes combo who are we going to be

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Land of the Blind

Summary: Nathan is caugh on a DUI and is sentenced to comunity service. There, he meets someone who can change his life.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 5400

Notes: So, Natey-boy again. Who hasn’t gotten over him yet?

בשוק סמייא צווחין לעווירא סגי נהור

In the street of the blind, the one-eyed man is called the Guiding Light

*_*_*_*_*

"Nathan Sterling! Come over here, bro!" Beau Han bellowed, causing several heads in the party to turn, but he remained uncaring, as he went on to wave his bottle of beer as a half-hearted greeting.

Nathan sighed, shaking his head in frustration at the closest thing he could call as best friend. His boorish antics got old fast, and he had to take them for years now. However, it did not keep the young, blond man to slip into the seat next to him and grabbing a bottle of beer.

They had met in college, when they pledged the same fraternity. They both came from privileged upbringings, with the difference that Beau was nouveau riche, while Nathan was a Boston Brahmin. The Asian boy, because of that, submitted himself to be his faithful lapdog, and he did not care for the difference between that and “true friendship”.

"Anything fun going on around here?" Nathan asked, unamused.

Beau gave a casual shrug, before pulling a face. "No hot girls are allowed here, apparently."

He craned his neck then, as if looking for something. Nathan frowned, opening his mouth to question him when Beau beat him to it. "Eh, Nathan? Where's Becca? I thought she was your conquest for the week?"

Nathan flicked his finger dismissively, before downing the bottle of beer. The voluptuous girl was not bad-looking, on the contrary, but she really was just really bossy and nagging, and her name was tarnished since her parents divorced and cut her off, it was no fun.

Not to mention, she wanted commitment, too. She wanted to raise herself from the filth she was thrown in. It was a big no-no for Nathan. He did not, under any circumstances, do commitments. Anytime a girl seemed to imply that, she was out. Especially the social-climbers.

"She's old news already, Beau.” He responded, lazily. “I can't seem to find anyone else up to my standards."

"Your standards must be reaching heaven, my dear friend." Beau shook his head as he chugged his beer, before wiping the corner of his mouth to clean himself of the trail of white booze. "I'm pretty sure dear Katie would be glad to lecture you again."

Nathan sighed, shaking his head. Katie was the exact reason why he is so averse to commitment. She was his cousin’s wife, daughter of a fisherman from down at the harbour, and seemed to think they were a loving family just because they were around the same age. She firmly believed in love and that Tanner was her One and Only.

To him, it all sound either naïve or malicious. She knew he was cheating on her with the Emersons’ slag, Scarlett, but she took it because parting with the Sterling fortune was too much to bear. Not that she will ever really have to, having birthed a daughter already.

He almost scoffed at just the mere idea of fairy-tale love. Pick any marriage on his lineage, from the very day the first member of his family set foot in America hailing from Norway, and they would be a good example that love did not exist. Including Kate and Tanner’s.

“She can’t lecture me if she doesn’t know, and evidence shows it isn’t that hard to hide things from her. She is pretty stupid.”

"Damn, you're bad!" Beau chuckled heartily before pulling Nathan up from his seat, gesturing to the platform set up for the party. "Let's go dance, and maybe pick up some hot girls, yeah?"

The corner of Nathan's mouth lifted slightly. Yes, that was exactly what he needed.

"Yeah, you're on."

*_*_*_*_*

"Nathan, you honestly shouldn't… " Beau stopped in the middle of the sentence, hiccupping for probably the umpteenth time. "Drive the car in such a state. You might get into an accident."

"Shut up, Beau, unless you’d like to walk." Nathan threatened. He was sure that he could handle liquor well, Beau was totally underestimating him. "I'm pretty sure you're the one who needs help getting home. Whose party is this again? Elliott's? I'm sure he'll be glad to drive you home."

"Yes, see that horn over there?" Beau hiccupped again, before chuckling and pointing at the roof of the house. "It’s Elliott's!"

"Damn, Beau, you are drunk." Nathan shook his head. Beau really seem like a stupid teenager at times. He muffled a sigh. “Call yourself an Uber. I know you like to spite your mother.”

"No need. Beau's going home with me." A familiar voice stated from behind the said male's bulky form.

Nathan's eyes widen by the tiniest bit, before he recovered, trying not to laugh. Trying to make him jealous? With Han? How quaint. Too bad it would not work.

"Oh, alright then." Nathan said, grinning as he saw his friend's face morphed into one of horror's, but he paid him no heed. He was apparently still sober enough to realize what he was getting into. "Have a nice night, Claire."

Without another word, he silently washed his hands from Han before he slipped into his Ashton Martin and sped off. The adrenaline was coursing through his veins, most probably a side effect from the consumption of beer. It had actually been a while since he had gone home with a girl, and for this moment, this silence was actually rather nice and peaceful.

He took a deep breath before he relaxed against his comfortable leather seat.

The sirens of police cars suddenly broke him out of his reverie, and he immediately swerved to a stop in an unconscious move.

Ugh, Nathan, you moron! What did you stop for?

He suppressed his grumbles as he rolled down the window of his car to come face-to-face to Officer Silverhawk. He muttered a curse under his breath. Of all people... Of all days...

"Good evening, Officer Silverhawk." He greeted grudgingly.

"Yes, Nathan." She sounded displeased. "What're you doing out here that late at night? Is that alcohol? You reek of it!"

"No, of course not, ma’am." Nathan lied smoothly. "I wouldn't do such a dangerous, reckless thing."

“You certainly would.” She said, unbelieving. “Give me your keys. I’ll pull up your record.”

"Don’t get your panties on a twist, Officer Silverhawk." He muttered.

Officer Silverhawk looked up from scrolling through the records at the mention of her name, but Nathan waved his hand like it was nothing.

"Well, Nathan…" She said, sounding gruff. "It's not the first time you've been caught speeding. In fact, this is the fifteenth time, and there's another few which was after consuming alcohol."

Again, shit.

"Well, I'm afraid you'd have to go to the police with us. Don't worry, you will most likely just have to serve community service if it comes to that." Chief Silverhawk seemed to meant for her to sound reassuring.

However, she seemed smug and Nathan noted irritably that her upper lip seemed to twitch slightly at that comment.

Fuck was the only thought echoing through his mind. His parents were going to kill him.

*_*_*_*_*

“You are a disgrace, Mr. Sterling. You are a smudge on this town prideful tradition, and a shame to your surname.” Judge Rhodes said, sternly, from his bench. “I am very glad that I was able to shield my stepdaughter from the likes of you.”

Nathan used much of his willpower not to roll his eyes at that comment. Judge Rhodes was obsessed with his wife and stepdaughter, to the point it was nauseating.

The man congratulate himself into making a “safe” town for his family to live, as if he would ever be interested in Emily Harper. She was a very creepy character, and he is not alone in thinking that. Yes, she was his neighbour, but they just never interacted anymore.

He could remember that, before Queenie Harper married Dr. Rhodes, before even Evan Harper died of a heart attack, him and Emily would spend a lot of time together. Mrs. Harper would have him on their home to relieve his nannies, and the two kids would spend the Summer afternoons together.

Over Winter, while he was away in New Haven with his parents, however, Mr. Harper passed away and Queenie moved away with Emily to God knows where. They returned years later, when the old bat had already remarried, conveniently, with the new county judge.

Every time he sees her, which was actually quite rare, she would be wearing a long dress and she would be wearing a sunglass with Zigmund Ortega, if he remembered correctly, the felon son of their housemaid, or with either of her parents by her side.

“I would prefer to send you away for a month at the county jail. That ought to straighten you out. However, the laws of the state of Massachusetts do not allow me.” The judge continued, doling out the punishment. “Therefore, I hereby sentence you, Nathan Sterling, III, to ten weeks of community service. I really hope this would be of help to your behaviour."

The gavel went down, he was taken away from the courtroom to where his family was restlessly waiting, no doubt anxious to give him a piece of their mind. He almost wished that Rhodes had locked him away.

“A DUI, Nathan, honestly.” Lois Sterling, his mother, admonishes coldly. “Why don’t you just piss on your great-grandfather’s statue at main square while you’re on it, huh?”

He limits himself to a glare. His mother really knows how to make a bad situation worse just by standing in the room.

His father, in turn, merely sighed, patting Nathan's stiff shoulder. "Learn something there, son."

"Nathan, you're an idiot. I swear, you are!" Katie huffed, looking very much like an angry poodle dog. "But I really feel like something good may come out of this whole mess, so don't go messing things up."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want, Cinderella."

All he got was an answering smack.

*_*_*_*_*

"Well, now what am I supposed to do?" Nathan asked, refraining from groaning as he looked at the peeling layers of wallpaper in the room of the orphanage.

The matron of the establishment narrowed her beady, black eyes at him, as if threatening him, before she pushed the grey bun on her head up higher. He stared at it for a moment, fascinated, before turning to face her. "I'm sorry, Ms..."

"Mrs. Higginbotham." She snapped, her lips twisting to a grimace. "You weren't listening."

"I'm sorry." He shuffled his feet and stared at them for a moment, trying to deceive her into thinking he was feeling guilty, which he obviously was not.

She released a sigh. "It's alright, boy."

Some people just were so easy to deceive. Most people, in fact, were easily thwarted by him. Call it a congenic trait.

The older woman motioned for the wall. "You need to peel of the wallpaper of this entire room before repainting it. A few older children will be coming in to help you out later, so don't worry about the workload."

He nodded.

She mimicked his movements, looking satisfied before leaving him with the appropriate tools.

He sighed, pulling his sleeves up and dreading the loss of a shirt. "Better get to work now, I guess."

"Hello!" A cheery voice disrupted his concentration, and he turned to face her after scraping off the last peeling layer of white from the ceiling.

What he saw was an assorted group of approximately thirteen-year-old teens standing there and looking at him. He fought back a grimace, before he raised his hand in an awkward wave.

"Uh, hi?"

"We heard you were here to serve your sentence." One of the boys blurted out.

The boy beside him smacked him.

"Not a sentence, Nicky. That's such an exaggeration!" He paused, before giving Nathan a curious look. "Or is it?"

"Alright, boys." A girl who was obviously the leader of the group of five stepped out, holding her palms up for silence. "Enough. We are here to help."

The two boys bowed their heads in resignation. "Sorry, Vanessa."

She nodded her head in satisfaction before turning her attention to the gaping Nathan. "What do you need help with, sir?"

"The scraping of wallpaper at the rest of the walls, I guess. I already did the ceiling. Then we can paint this room." He replied after recovering quickly. "And don't call me 'sir', please. It makes me sound old."

Vanessa grinned.

"Okay. Let's get to work then!"

This kid must be something to control them like that. Blonde curly hair, bright blue eyes, clearly a strong-willed kid. Had not been for the crude demeanour of her posture, one would say they were siblings. He found he rather liked her.

A few minutes after they started work, Nicky, if he remembered correctly, suddenly asked. "Brad, aren't you looking forward to the afternoon?"

The boy who smacked Nicky turned, his eyes bright as a cheeky smile surfaced, accidently scratching the wall with his tool in his carelessness, but he paid it no heed.

"Like, duh! Emmy is coming!"

"Emmy?" Nathan could not help himself from asking.

All eyes in the room turned to look at him, looking shocked before exclaiming in unison, "You don't know who's Emmy?"

“No, not really.” He responded.

“Emily Harper.” Vanessa supplied, helpfully. “She’s a voluntary teacher here. The kids that have been here the longest call her Emmy.”

“Oh! She’s my next-door neighbour.” He gasped in recognition. "Um, well, we’ve met, years ago, but we’re not close anymore. She's kind of... I don't know… "

He tried to untangle himself out of the situation, noticing how everyone seemed to stiffen at his words.

"You're one of those creeps who look down on her, right?" Nicky yelled, his face red with anger as he fisted his hands, stepping forward and looking as if he was about to hit him.

"Nicky." Vanessa's soft voice stopped him, and he bit his lip before muttering an apology.

"I'm sorry, Nathan, we're rather protective when it comes to Emily." She managed a smile. "I sure hope you aren't one of those who look down on her. She is a lovely person. She really brightens up our day."

He smiled back, unsure of what reply to give.

After that exchange, the room's atmosphere seemed to escalate to a freezing region, where everyone talked among themselves, occasionally only speaking to Nathan when they need to.

It seemed hours to him before Mrs. Higginbotham came, looking very pleased with their progress. "Well, you are almost done, ain't ya?"

All the teens nodded their heads eagerly, excluding Nathan.

"Well, I suppose you all can go for your break." She turned to leave before she angled her face back to face them once more, a twinkle in her eye. "By the way, Ms. Harper has arrived."

It was a moment after she left, before all the children threw down their tools and dashed out, pushing against each other as they stumbled along the corridor. Nathan blinked once in bewilderment, before he decided not to follow.

He continued working on his part of the room for a few more minutes, before his stomach growled. He bit the inside of his cheeks, before resigning. Now, he would have to find the canteen by himself.

How pathetic. Why did he have to stop his car when Officer Silverhawk signalled him to? Walsh would never let her come after him, anyways. There were so many better ways to spend his precious time, to the point he is willing to go work with his father.

Pulling the towel off his neck, he jumped down from the stool before trudging out of the room. The county orphanage could not be that big; he was sure of it. It should not be too hard to find the canteen.

He yawned, rubbing his eyes. This work really was exhausting.

As he walked down the hallway, commiserating with himself, a beautiful melody drifted to his ears then, and he immediately perked up. Someone was playing the violin, and that person was really good at it, too.

Unknowingly, his feet followed the source of the music, and he stopped in front of a door at last.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, he debated for a while whether he should go in or just leave it be. But the curiosity of knowing who was inside overwhelmed him, and he twisted the knob as softly as he could before he poked his head to the room.

A redhead with long, flowing curly hair tumbling down to her waist was on the middle of a mostly empty room, holding the instrument. She was wearing a white floral dress that reached over her knees. He watched, transfixed as her fingers danced over the strings, her eyes closed and her full lips in a concentrated pout.

"Nathan?" Mrs. Higginbotham's voice broke him out of his entranced stare.

The music abruptly got cut off and the girl turned to face him. His jaw almost fell to the ground.

"E-Emily?" He managed to get out.

She smiled a breath-taking smile, standing up from her seat, her eyes still closed as she tilted her head to the side for a moment.

"Hi, Nathan."

"Hi?" But it sounded more like a question. The beautiful girl playing the violin just now... Was actually Emily Harper? The ghost of Birchport? The bratty child of the county judge?

He swallowed, watching as her long, elegant fingers pressed against her full, red lips, looking embarrassed.

"Did you hear me play?" She asked, a soft stutter on her words.

"I did. It was beautiful." He breathed, still looking utterly entranced, his emerald green eyes lighting up as they stared at her.

Red coloured both her cheeks as she fidgeted even more, seeming to feel the weight of his stare. "Thank you, you’re too kind."

Suddenly, someone coughed in the room, and Nathan realized they were not alone. The entire roomful of teens and children and Mrs. Higginbotham were looking at him, seemingly in amusement and curiosity.

"New brother!" One of the younger kids squealed before clapping his hands together, looking very happy.

Nathan stared at them with a completely bewildered expression.

"Well, Nathan, how nice of you to join us." Mrs. Higginbotham said, motioning for him to take a seat and snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Thank you, Mrs. Higginbotham."

"Sorry, Nathan. I really thought you were one of those creeps who look down on Emmy." Nicky whispered to him from in front and Nathan tilted his head to the side. Why would anyone look down on her? She was beautiful, and she played such beautiful music.

Before he could ask, though, Emily had already picked up her instrument and placed on her neck, measuring the tempo for a new song. She seemed tense now, her fingers stiff. Was it because of his presence?

He wondered about it, before shaking it off. Impossible.

Her first note was slightly shaky, before it was followed by a firmer tone. As she continued on, her confidence began to grow and the music slowly crawled to a crescendo, her fingers flying over the strings.

He could not help but gape. She was the epitome of beauty and class. Maybe she would be deserving to be his next conquest.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Mrs. Higginbotham murmured from beside him.

He nodded, not speaking, transfixed by the song.

"You can't even tell that she's blind." She said softly and Nathan whirled to face her in shock.

"What?"

"Why, yes, Nathan. She's blind." She said, a little surprised. “I thought you knew. Most people in town do.”

“I… She wasn’t blind back when we were close.” He responded lamely.

Higginbotham tutted, lost in thought. “She did lose her sight, just after her father’s death.”

“How did it happen?” He asked, curiously.

“You’d do better asking her yourself.” She answered with a tone of finality.

That night, as he went out with Kassidy Marquez, his mind was elsewhere; thinking of a certain redhead with a lovely blush.

Soon, he broke off with a shocked and angry Kassidy, because he simply could not stand the heaviness in his heart.

*_*_*_*_*

Emily teaches music to the children at the orphanage, or at least tries to. Their music room was on the bare side, so their lessons are mostly consisted of her playing for them to hear. After every break she plays, she would tell the children the stories of her life, and Nathan would sometimes be one of the characters.

When she was feeling particularly wicked, she would tell some humiliating story of the two of them when they were kids, which would always finish with him red as a tomato and mumbling, “That’s so not what happened…”

She, however, never told them about the time she spent away from Birchport, curiously enough. She never told them how she lost her sigh, nor where she had been or what she had been doing. It was mysterious.

Every day, after clock out, Nathan would go home alone looking dazed, and Katie would be waiting for him on the foyer, just to pester him as always, wondering who the girl was.

She sure was not the only one wondering.

He stopped going out at night, he stopped dating different girls at the time. In a nutshell, he stopped doing everything like he would always do. Instead, he would always go to their library to play the piano when he had any free time.

There was a time he loved playing the piano. His mother had commanded him to chose an instrument, and he took to that. He even had quite a deal of talent, but on his Senior year in high school, Lois barred him from playing and at Hartford was impossible. By the time Summer came and he returned to Birchport, he had long forgot it.

The change of his personality within such a short period of time was shocking, to say the least. It was a pleasant one, though, of course.

He would always look out of his bedroom window, gazing beyond the gardens, wanting to see her, but he would never have the chance to. So, he had to wait every day until he reached the orphanage.

*_*_*_*_*

"Nathan, it's your last day of community service today, right?" Katie declared, over breakfast. "It must have been a long two months and a half."

He shook his head, but refrained from a snarky comment. Nathan had been more patient with his cousin by marriage these days. In fact, he had been more patient and mindful with just about everybody, with the notable exception of his mother.

Happy people want for everybody to be happy too, he reasoned. Since he felt more comfortable in Emily’s company, he stopped to be so cynical about everyone’s angle when talking to him, he became more trusting. He was even beginning to accept that Katie was just a good person, after all.

"It's not long at all." He murmured, the corner of his lips tugging up slightly. "Not long at all."

Nathan, Snr., stared, seeming shocked, but said nothing. An approving smile was on his face. They simply have to meet this miracle-worker.

Lois, in turn, glared at her son. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, boy. The next time you pull out something like that, you won’t be getting off so easily.”

The young man shrugged and got up to his feet, leaving the house with no further words. He jumped into his car and drove as fast as he could to the orphanage, getting straight into work as soon as he arrived.

He watched her as he ran his errands, during every break of that week, watching the beautiful girl playing music that touched his very soul. He was captivated, he was entranced, and he was completely falling to the grace of it.

Not only to the violin, but to the girl playing it.

The slight furrow between her brows as she contemplated something; how she pressed her fingers against her lips when she was embarrassed; how her hands would wrang together when she was nervous; how she would bite her lip when she was frightened; how...

Fuck, how did he know these things?

He buried his head into the crook of his arm. It was the last day of his community service, and he was actually here, obsessing over a girl. A girl who barely knew him and would certainly hate to.

"Nathan?"

It was then, did he realize that Mrs. Higginbotham has been calling him for some time. She looked rather displeased. Again.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright." She smiled. "As I was saying, I've seen in your information that you're rather talented in the piano. Why don't you two play a piece together? As a farewell?"

"You're leaving?"

A slight furrow could be seen from his view and he smiled, though he knew she would not see it. She actually looked concerned. He almost laughed at the irony of Judge Rhode's words on his sentence. Well, it certainly backfired.

He nodded slowly, out of habit. "Well, yeah. It's my last day of community service."

“I’ll round up the kids, while you decide on a song.” The matron declared, excusing herself. “I’m sure it will be beautiful.”

A pause.

"So, would you like to play a duet with me?" He asked, his tone velvet and smooth.

He would not talk to her anymore after this. Perhaps he would, they were neighbours, but it did not seem likely. It would not be like it was now, in these hallowed rooms, away from their families and away from the prying eyes of the community.

As he spoke, he took big strides, reaching her quickly. He took her hands that were wrung together on her lap before taking one of them to his lips, pressing his lips against them gently. She blushed deep red.

He felt his crooked smile on his face. His real smile, the one born out of legitimate joy, that he almost forgot he had. He frowned at that thought, dismissing it away quickly.

"A duet, my Lady?"

"Sure…" She stammered, a blush still on her cheeks.

He sat on a bench and stretched his hands to play the old piano that the institution kept and he had tuned earlier that month.

There was a silence as they shifted to make themselves comfortable, before he blurted, “Where were you?”

“What?” She asked softly, in confusion.

“We were friends, Emily. It might have been long ago, but I remember that much. I left for New Haven after Labour Day one year, and when I came back in the Spring, you were gone.” He said, rather feverishly. “Then, as suddenly as you left, you came back, and now you are blind. What happened?”

The girl turned her face away, trying to hide the tint on her cheeks. “It was entirely too sudden. My dad died, and then we moved right away. I didn’t know until I heard the movers come into the house.”

“Why, Emily? What happened?” He insisted.

“My dad, he had a heart attack while driving. He hit a tree and died from the impact. I was on the car with him, and the glass shards from the windshield cut my eyes.” She explained. “The doctors in Boston said I wouldn’t be able to see anymore, so my mother moved us to New York, so I could attend a school for the blind.”

“I see.” He nodded, sober. “And Judge Rhodes?”

“My mother met him in New York. He is a good man, just a little overbearing. He thought it would be better to live in a small town, that it would be safer, so when I got into Boston Conservatory, they decided to relocate to Birchport for me to commute.” She finishes her story with a soft voice, barely perceptible.

“I see. Thank you for telling me.” He responded, a little ashamed of himself. He should not have pressured her that way.

“It’s okay, I’ve been meaning to, actually.” Emily said, smiling again. “I was honestly quite intimidated by you in the beginning. You seemed always so angry and frustrated.”

Nathan chuckled. “It’s because I was.”

“You’ve mellowed out since.” She concludes. “I’m glad. You have a nice voice when you’re happy. I like it.”

“I have a pretty voice…” Nathan teased. "I must be pretty hot, huh?"

She giggled softly. "Yeah. You seem to be, if I remember you right."

"You aren't the only girl who say that."

Her smile melted away then, and Nathan berated himself for saying such a thing.

“You’re very perceptible. I live in a house full of perfectly seeing people, and none of them identify what I think or feel.” He smiled sadly, trying to cover up his slip of the tongue.

“I’m sorry for that, Nathan. You shouldn’t be made feel this way.” She raises her hands to him. He picks them up and cradle them on his. “People are good in hiding emotions in their faces, but not on their voices, not on their bodies. If there is one good thing about being blind is that it is difficult to be lied to.”

They took a minute to enjoy each other’s bodily presence, one that was too soon interrupted by a loud cough from Mrs. Higginbotham. All the older teens behind her stifled their laughter, seeming to know what was going on.

"What piece then?" Nathan questioned, a smile seeming stuck on his face. He just could not stop smiling.

"How about Dvořák?" She offers. “The fourth duet.”

"I like it." He murmured, watching as she fumbled with the stacks of scores for a moment before pulling out the desired one.

"I hope you'd have no problem with it. Um, no, I'm not underestimating you, it's just..."

He laughed. "No worries, Emily. I can cope, and I know you're not."

He could not help the arrogance that slipped through, but it was him, after all. He was not called a piano prodigy for nothing. His thumb brushed her warm cheek casually before they turned to the score before them.

He counted softly under his breath before his fingers swept over the keys in a beautiful, enchanting dance. The soft, soothing melody filled the room, their music interacting beautifully on the dusty air, and a smile would surface on both Nathan's and Emily's face as a surge of electricity run through their veins.

"Beautiful piece, isn't it?" Emily whispered, almost too soft for him to hear as their fingers choreographed a breath-taking dance, without any rehearsals or practice. They felt whole.

"Yes." Nathan murmured, unable to stop the next sentence from slipping out. "More beautiful when it's played with you."

He knew that out of all the girls he had been with, she, Emily Harper, the ghost of Birchport, brought out the best in him. He did not need to look at her to know she was smiling a timid smile.

They struck a final chord and simultaneously turned to face each other; though Emmy could not see him, before breaking out into a joyful laughter. The people in the room started laughing too.

The younger children had no idea what was happening, but they joined in, clapping their hands and squealing, immersing themselves in the happy and light atmosphere.

The fingers that were once dancing over the keys were now interlaced with each other tightly.

He knew it then, as he swept a strand of brown hair away from her closed eyes, a beautiful smile on her face; that he wanted her to love him; that he wanted them to be together.

"Emily." He murmured, cupping her face gently in his hands, before he pressed a soft kiss against her full, pouty ones, watching as a familiar red coloured her cheeks.

"Yes?" She answered breathlessly.

He smiled. "I promise I’ll share my eyes with you, if you promise to always be with me."

He watched a tear escape from the corner of her closed eye, before leaning forward and capturing it with his finger.

“I promise.” She whispered.

The children cheered while Mrs. Higginbotham looked at them with a berating eye-stare, scolding them for the display, but she could not stop a soft smile from spreading across her face, either.

*_*_*_*_*

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[dibidibifiction]

Criminal In My Mind: Chapter 1

Warning: foul language

Pairing: Choi Minho x Reader

Word count: 2k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction made for personal entertainment of readers. The writer does not ever intend to offend her readers nor does she aim to spread false information about anyone as to pay any disrespect to the real-life persons whom the characters are based on. She also does not claim ownership to any of the images that are being used.

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Y/N

“What... What’s happening?”

Different voices sound faint in the background. I try to adjust as my sight is still cloudy. I have no idea where I am. I start to fail catching my breath as soon as I realize that I can’t feel my arms when I attempt to feel my head where there’s excruciating pain other than the rest of my body aches all over.

Although everything is dark and blurry, I noticed that I’m sitting down with my knees bent to my face, a cloth smelling of gasoline fumes covers my nose and mouth. I’m in a cramped space that I can hardly move in, some kind of a big container. I look up and I see a small hole with light shining through.

What is going on? I can hear myself breathing rapidly.

Two men appear from above me and grab me forcefully on both of my arms to stand me up as I feel another severe pain. This time it’s somewhere on my hip.

Shit, it hurts! It hurts, it hurts. It fucking hurts!

Still catching up with my breath, my sight is fading black again while I hear drilling and hammering but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. I feel myself being dragged as burns forming on my heels. I start to panic—trying to jerk every part of my body, trying to break free. I’d shout for help but my lips down to my throat are too dry as if frozen.

I must have passed out for a minute because the next thing I know is complete silence and complete darkness. Suddenly, in front of me appears another man with blood all over his hands and a sledgehammer in one. “Stay still,” he says.

I try to scream again and finally, my voice rips out the loudest that I can, “Help!”

“Shh, relax, this is just a-” 

“Dream!”

I jolt up. My pores drip with cold sweat and my heart throbs as if to break free from my ribs.

“It was just a dream,” I think out loud.

It’s been over a year since I last dreamt something about what happened when I was thirteen. I don’t even remember what exactly happened anymore. I just remember exactly how it felt, how terrifying it was. How I thought I was going to die. I’m not even sure how I survived, especially my surgeon. I received quite a beating from that event, such as severe bruises and deep cuts all over my body, internal bleeding along my insides. Two rib bones were so complicatedly twisted on my lower right flank that I needed surgery just for the doctors to fix them, which left a big scar down my side. I don’t know what’s worse: remembering how everything happened or remembering how it all felt. The memory of it all, although unclear...

I get freighted by the vibration of my phone against my nightstand. Jinki is calling.

“Lee Jinki, isn’t it too early for a flirtatious phone call? I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, hey! I didn’t expect you to pick up right away. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just a bad dream. Gonna take a shower. I’m late for-”

“Wait! Stop by for breakfast. It’s on me.”

I roll my eyes and hang up. Jinki and I dated shortly after college for like a week or two so nothing was serious. We’re good friends now but he’s still claiming that there is still some kind of remaining spark between us. It’s getting old so I just always assume he’s joking every time he tells me that.

I decided not to wash my hair and just let it loose since I really am going to be late for work and I hate to bother going out with wet hair. I get dressed, I go for a pastel pink long-sleeved shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted light blue jeans and my ivory cream high-top Chucks. I don’t bother for any makeup, which rarely happens, and rush out the front door then lock it behind me. 

I hop on a cab taking it that there won’t be a bus stopping any second now.

I arrive at Jinki’s café, which is just on the next parallel street of the flower shop and just two neighborhoods away from home, “Hi, I’m here,” I call out even before I spot him.

“Good morning, Y/n!” Jinki greets cheerfully with his usual bright smile. “Wait, I think there’s something different,” he gestures both of his hands on my face.

“Oh, maybe it’s because I haven’t put any makeup-”

“You’re extra beautiful today,” his smile widens, and eyes almost disappear.

“-on,” I grit my teeth at him. “You shut up, Jinki! I’ll see you later,” I walk out the glass doors and nod at the barista as thanks for opening them for me.

I flash all the way to the flower shop that my sock slips off from my heel when I walk in, to already witness an early customer.

“There she is! My favorite employee. Y/n, sweetie, please come and talk to this fine lady right here. She has a lot of questions that are far beyond my energy to handle.”

“Sorry, I’m late, Mr. Lee. And everybody knows I’m your only employee who isn’t your son,” I joke back as Taemin pops in yawning, still in his morning glory.

“And everybody also knows that my son sucks at his job,” Mr. Lee shouts and smacks the back of his son’s head then points to another customer that has just walked in, ordering him to go and entertain.

As I mind my own customer, I catch a small glimpse of the guy Taemin’s talking to, who looks unimpressed. He has dark hair in a layered bowl style with his fringe covering more than half his forehead and would’ve definitely looked cuter if he smiled. They seem to already know each other. Weird thing is I feel like I’ve met him before. Was he in one of my classes in college? Does he go to the same gym class I do? 

“For the petunia bouquet, can you add something else so it won’t look so plain?” the nice lady inquires further.

“Absolutely. Maybe I’ll add some purple azaleas or lilies, or maybe both if you’d like. What do you think?”

“Great! I’ll just entrust this on you, dear, okay?”

“No problem,” I assure her, not breaking a smile while I work the cash register for her down payment, I take one more quick look at the guy, who may now think I’m creepy so I’ll stop now. I hand over the receipt to the lady in front of me.

“Thanks! I’ll come back Friday to pick them up,” she announces.

“Thank you for coming in! I’ll make sure to ready your bouquets by then. Have a nice day!” I say, still smiling, opening the door for her to walk out.

As soon as I approach the guys, the other customer, probably coincidentally, is just walking out of the shop. I don’t know about everybody else who’s met him but he seems hostile to me. 

And really really familiar. I can’t point my finger at it. “You know him?” I ask Taemin beside me.

“Yeah, we’re in a photography class together,” he tells me. “I tend to talk to him at school but he’s kind of scary.”

“Seems likely.”

“But I like him. I think he’s better once I get to know him.”

I laugh. “Anyway, what time do your classes start this afternoon?”

“2 o’clock.”

“Great. Can you deliver those bouquets due today for me? Please and thank you!” I sweetly ask him, pointing at a big box across the counter.

“Sure thing, Noona. Tell Dad I’ll be home late tonight,” he informs me while grabbing his backpack and the box of deliveries.

“Hot date?” I tease him.

“We’re just friends,” he said with a jokingly evil grin and a wink. 

“Hey, Lee Taemin, don’t do anything stupid!”

Just like that, he’s out the door before I even finish my sentence.

Lunchtime is finally here. I’ve been arranging flowers all morning and handling customers whenever somebody comes in. Although I could never complain about my job since this is what I’ve ever wanted growing up.

I was born and raised in a different city where my parents live to this day about a two-hour drive away from here, or three hours if you took the bus since it has a lot of stops and depending on traffic. I moved to this city in my first year of college. 

My mom and dad had been tight with me growing up, especially with academics, since they both have families that got master’s degrees and PhDs. At first, I didn’t mind studying hard and graduating with honors because I didn’t really know what I wanted to be in the future at the time. However, the more I aged, the more I realized that I hated studying. I’m not smart enough like my parents and my cousins and they had no idea how hard I must have worked in order for me to please them. I hated the attention whenever I received a first-place certificate or won local quiz bees and academic decathlons because, you know what, none of the trophies and medals I earned made me happy.

When I was kidnapped and held captive in some kind of box for days, all I thought about was flowers. I was missing my mom’s garden at home, and how it smelled in the morning before I went to school. I figured that flowers were all that I drew with crayons in kindergarten. It was the highlight of my days. At the time, in that container, I had foreboded that I was going to die.

Since the universe provided me a second chance to live, that’s when my life began. I did not want to be an academic overachiever, I wanted to have fun. Since then, my parents always scolded me for getting a B or a C, but I didn’t care. At least I never neglected my studies.

The day came when I had to move out to go to college and I couldn’t be more excited. Still without neglecting my academics, I started partying almost every weekend and dated whoever I wanted. Although, I honestly have never been in love before.

The rest is history, I found Mr. Lee’s flower shop. I applied for a job here three years ago, before I graduated.

“Did somebody order lunch?” Jinki walks into the shop. “How’s my love doing?”

“Fine, thank you for asking. And shut up,” I say. “You didn’t have to do this. You already gave me breakfast.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want my girl to starve,” he winks at me.”

“Hey, Lee Jinki! Give me a break, won’t you? I’m not yours.”

“Come on, I’m kidding. It already sank into me that you’re never gonna be mine. Plus, I actually met somebody.”

“No shit, really? Who?” I ask, surprised.

“I’m not gonna tell you now. We just started seeing each other and we’re not exclusive yet. I don’t even know if she likes me.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you moving on. Let me meet her when you’re ready.” I say to him as I pinch his cheek.

“Here we go,” he says after laying out all the food on the counter.

“Looks good, thank you,” I’m always thankful for Jinki. Even though we didn’t work out as romantic partners, I’m glad we’re friends. “Oh, by the way, Kibum is coming into town this Friday.”

“Oh, great. I only got to meet him once before but I think he’s really funny. How long ago was it when he last visited?” he asks while his mouth is full with rice.

“I think it was over a month ago when he told me the news about his engagement.”

“Looks like we have a fun weekend ahead. Although I might not join you the next day since I’m going home to my mom’s.”

“Great! Say hi to her for me.”

Chapter 2

[tw-anchor]

02. Meddling Boys

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Reader)

Episode: 1x02; Second Chance at First Line

Word Count: 5,381

Warning(s): Mature language, dead body, cannon violence

Author’s Note: Stiles and Scott stirred the pot and Olivia’s not happy! Tell me what y’all think of this. Reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description

“Did Scott apologize yet?” Olivia asked Allison, briefly glancing at the taller girl as she opened her locker.

Allison sighed loudly. “No, not yet,” she leaned against the locker next to Olivia’s. “But he messaged me last period. I guess he wants to talk.”

Olivia hummed. “Maybe you should,” she shrugged when Allison gave her a questioning look. “He looked sick when he left the party. He probably didn’t want to leave you.”

Of course, Olivia knew exactly why Scott left the party so early but she couldn’t exactly tell Allison the truth. She was an Argent and just because she was nice didn’t mean she didn’t hunt supernatural creatures as a side hobby. If it got out that Scott was a werewolf, he’d most likely be dead the next day.

“I guess,” Allison said quietly, looking at her phone when it buzzed. “My dad’s here. Can I call you later? To tell you about Scott?”

“Yeah, of course,” Olivia nodded with a small smile. “See you tomorrow.”

Allison beamed at her and left with a wave, leaving Olivia by herself.

She didn’t want to get too close to Allison but she turned out to be a really sweet girl so far. Olivia was making sure that she was guarded when getting to know her, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. Plus, Lydia liked Allison, too, and it’d be weird if she didn’t hang around them without an explanation.

Olivia focused back on her locker, pulling out her chemistry textbook so she could do the homework that Mr. Harris had assigned her class.

“I know what you’re up to!”

Olivia jumped, startled, and turned to Stiles, eyes wide. Stiles stood with his hands on his hips, already dressed in his lacrosse pads and practice jersey, his whiskey eyes narrowed at her.

“You scared me,” she scolded him. “What am I up to again?”

All day, Stiles and Scott had glared at her during the classes they shared. She had an idea of why there were angry—Derek had told her that he didn’t deny biting Scott when he was confronted by the new beta, which was an idiot move—but if they would just let her clear up Derek’s shady actions, everything would be fine.

“You and your cousin,” Stiles hissed, faltering a little when Olivia’s pursed her lips at him. She was just too damn beautiful. “He bit Scott and now he wants Scott to follow him around and do all kinds of stuff.”

Olivia furrowed her eyebrows and closed her locker so she could face Stiles head-on. “Okay, Derek didn’t bite Scott.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Stiles huffed.

“He didn’t,” Olivia pressed, growing irritated. “And I’m not planning anything. I just wanted to help, Derek went rogue.”

“Rogue?”

“Yeah,” Olivia nodded. “He was supposed to help Scott, not antagonize him,” she shrugged, hoisting her bag on her shoulder. “but Scott made it through all right, right? I mean, Derek helped him get away from the hunters.”

Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, he sure was helpful.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I think you hate Derek for no reason. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He killed that girl, Olivia!” Stiles protested, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Of course, she’d protect her family, he thought.

Olivia stiffened, her lips pressed in a firm line. Stiles was startled to see her blue eyes start to water.

Stiles sighed, mad at himself for making her cry. “Liv—"

“Derek didn’t kill anyone,” she said lowly, interrupting Stiles.

“Look, I know you want to protect him, but—”

“You don’t know anything, Stiles!” she exclaimed, cutting him off again. “You think you do, but you don’t!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Olivia angrily turned away from the infuriating boy and stomped down the hallway, disappointed in herself for getting so angry. She wasn’t the stoic, calm Olivia that she usually was and it was bugging her.

Still, she couldn’t help herself when Stiles mentioned Laura. He didn’t know anything. Derek would never in a million years kill his big sister. The only reason that he and Scott thought that was because they didn’t think to ask questions. They just assumed.

And that angered her because she and Derek were the ones offering to help Scott out. Sure, Derek went a little off the rails, but Scott nor Allison were hurt.

Her phone buzzed angrily in her pocket; she looked at it, not surprised to see that Derek was calling her.

She sighed and answered the call, “Hello?”

“Get out to the lacrosse field,” Derek said quickly. “We need to watch Scott.”

“Hello to you, too,” Olivia grumbled. “I don’t know why I have to watch Scott. You’re there, there’s no need for me to be.”

“I need you here because I’m a twenty-three-year-old man on a high school campus,” Derek hissed. “I look creepy.”

Despite her bad mood, Olivia giggled. “You always look creepy, Der. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Hurry.”

Olivia quickly sent a text to Lydia, telling her that she was getting a ride with Derek, and shoved her phone into her pocket. She made her way over to the practice lacrosse field, not surprised to see that practice had already started.

Jackson was picking up a long stick and getting into position when she reached where Derek was standing next to the bleachers.

“Anything so far?” she asked her cousin, looking out over the players. Her eyes caught the back of Stiles’ jersey and she huffed, cursing the fact that she actually thought he looked attractive in his uniform.

“Nope,” Derek answered, his leather-covered arms crossed over his chest. “Scott’s a little dazed but I don’t know why.”

As if proving Derek right, Scott ran from the line of players, trying to score a goal, and was immediately tackled by Jackson. Olivia watched carefully as Coach went over to talk some sense into Scott, hoping that his temper wouldn’t get out of control.

Scott stalked back to the line as Coach declared that he was having another turn.

“This isn’t gonna be good.”

“No shit.”

Scott sprinted toward Jackson and Olivia winced in sympathy as Scott rammed into him, roughly tackling him to the ground. Jackson let out a loud yelp and rolled around in pain, clutching his shoulder. Scott landed a few feet away, his hands gripping his helmet.

“Should we do something?” Olivia asked anxiously as Stiles ran up to Scott.

“Probably.”

Olivia’s eyes met Stiles’ as he ushered Scott away from the field and she couldn’t help but gulp as she saw the panicked look on his face.

“Are you going to help them?” Olivia looked at Derek.

“You go, they trust you more than they trust me.”

“But—”

What could she do against a newly-turned werewolf?

“They’re heading to the locker room,” Derek informed her, using his enhanced hearing. “Get the fire extinguisher. It should distract him.”

“Derek—”

“Just go, Ollie,” he urged her. “You can do it.”

Olivia nodded reluctantly and ran toward the boys’ locker room. As she entered the door just off the room, she could hear low growling and panicked yelps. The latter, she assumed, was Stiles.

She peeked into the locker room and was met with the sight of Stiles running away from a fully-transitioned Scott. The spastic boy bumped into numerous lockers as he tried to get away from his best friend, who was on top of the lockers and glaring down at him with golden eyes.

“Stiles!” Olivia called, getting his attention as she grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall.

Stiles jerked his head in her direction. “Olivia, what are you doing?!”

Olivia gestured for him to come her way and, in lieu of other options, he cooperated. Just as he passed her, she sprayed the fire extinguisher, aiming it at Scott, who had followed him over.

While Scott flailed around in the icy foam, Olivia grabbed Stiles’ elbow and dragged him into the hallway.

Stiles slumped against the wall and looked up at Olivia, breathing heavily.

“Why did you—what—how—?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to leave you to die,” Olivia said simply, shrugging lightly. Stiles smiled, flattered, but it fell when she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m still mad at you.”

Stiles huffed and got to his feet. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“You should probably check on Scott,” Olivia pointed out, annoyed. She shoved the fire extinguisher into his arms. “Take care of that, would you?”

She promptly turned away, her high-heeled ankle boots making a slight clicking sound as she left the school. Heading out to the practice field to see about Jackson, she pulled out her phone and called Lydia to tell her what happened.

-

Olivia sat next to Lydia in the waiting room of the hospital, both of them waiting for Jackson to be released so they could take him home. His parents, the busy lawyers they were, couldn’t be bothered to check him out of the hospital, so it was down to Lydia and Olivia to make sure he got home safely.

In all honesty, Olivia felt sorry for Jackson. He worked hard to be the best at lacrosse—he was the youngest captain in their school’s history because he was a damn good player—and then all of a sudden, Scott shows up, using his enhanced senses and stamina to get onto first line. And, yeah, Jackson can be a dick sometimes, but now his shoulder was fucked up because of Scott.

Which brought on a whole new set of insecurities for Jackson.

Believe it or not, Olivia and Jackson were good friends. He was probably her closest friend other than Lydia and she was one of the only people who could tolerate him besides Lydia and his best friend, Danny. Oliva could understand Jackson—he was adopted, so he felt like he was abandoned by his biological parents and betrayed by his adoptive parents, and he felt like he had to be the best at everything. She could relate. She wasn’t adopted but she did live with her aunt and cousin who was talented at everything she tried. Olivia constantly felt like she had to be on top of things to even compete with Lydia.

Lydia sighed anxiously from beside her, her legs bouncing up and down in an unusual show of nerves.

“I can’t believe his shoulder is separated,” she huffed. She looked at Olivia with wide eyes. “Do you think he’ll be able to play?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia frowned. “Maybe with a cortisone shot…Let’s just hope that he’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Lydia agreed, the usual bitchy demeanor that she put on for the people at school long gone. At this point, she was just worried about Jackson and how he was going to react to his injury.

Olivia smiled slightly and grabbed Lydia’s hand, knowing that this was hard for her. At first, Lydia and Jackson started going out for the popularity but now she could tell that there were real feelings between them.

Lydia squeezed her hand and sent her a grateful smile.

The moment was ruined when Olivia’s phone rang. Rolling her eyes, she pulled the phone out of her purse and glared at the caller ID that told her Stiles was calling her.

“What?” she huffed into the phone.

“Uh, hey, this is Stiles,” Stiles squeaked nervously. “Um, Stiles Stilinski. You know—”

“Yes, I know who you are, Stiles,” Olivia rolled her eyes, though she did find his rambling kind of cute. Kind of. “What did you need? I thought you didn’t trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Stiles tried to explain. “I mean, I want to trust you. I just don’t trust Derek—”

“Stiles.”

“Right, okay,” Stiles sighed. “I was calling to see how Jackson’s doing.”

Olivia exhaled heavily, ignoring Lydia’s questioning look. “Not good, honestly. His shoulder is separated.”

“Oh. Is he gonna be able to play?”

“We don’t know right now,” Olivia admitted.

She looked at Lydia when she felt her prodding her arm and sat up straight when she saw Jackson being rolled into the waiting room by a nurse. She nodded at Lydia, silently telling her that she’d grab her purse.

“Look, I have to go, Stiles, Jackson’s out of the hospital,” she told Stiles.

“All right, thanks for the info. See ya.”

“Bye.”

Olivia grabbed Lydia’s purse and swung it over her shoulder with her own bag before walking over to Jackson.

“Hey, bud,” she patted his head, seeing that he looked pretty high from the painkillers that the doctors gave him. “How are you doing?”

Jackson just huffed, obviously angry.

“Don’t antagonize him,” Lydia scolded her, helping Jackson stand up from the wheelchair. “Let’s get you home.”

-

“So, Scott apologized and…?”

Lydia and Allison looked up at Olivia’s question, the three of them sprawled on Olivia’s king-sized bed, doing their homework. They all had beauty masks plastered on their faces in preparation for their sleepover and when they finished their homework, they had plans to do manicures.

“And I was going to give him another shot,” Allison said, frowning. “But he was acting weird after lunch.”

Olivia furrowed her eyebrows. “Really?”

What was wrong with Scott now?

“Yeah,” Allison nodded. “He was asking all these questions about your cousin driving me home from the party. It was really intense.”

“Hmm.”

“He was probably jealous,” Lydia said matter-of-factly. “I mean, I was introducing you to some of the players on the team. That’s what he gets for not playing in the game tomorrow.”

Olivia frowned and circled the answer to the last question on her history homework, shutting her textbook. She knew Derek had given Scott pretty strict orders to not play the game tomorrow but Lydia had also given him a stern scolding. When Lydia told her that she threatened to introduce Allison to other players on the team, Olivia figured that Scott was going to do anything to play in the game.

“Maybe,” Allison shrugged. “He was just acting weird.”

“Well, I think Scott’s always been weird,” Olivia excused Scott. The least she could do was try to help his relationship with Allison. Even though it was like a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing, she knew Scott and Allison really liked each other.

“Absolutely,” Lydia agreed, giggling. “His friend, Miles, or something, came up to me while I was at the hospital with Jackson. He kept rambling about something but I was on the phone with Macy’s customer service, so I didn’t catch anything he said.”

Olivia and Allison chuckled, both of them knowing from experience how weird Stiles could be.

A knock on Olivia’s door caught them off guard, causing their giggles to die. Natalie, Lydia’s mom and Olivia’s aunt, popped her head into the room.

“Girls, Lisa’s here to take me to book club,” she told Olivia and Lydia with a smile. “If you’re going to drink the wine in the fridge, I don’t want you going anywhere, you understand?”

“Okay, Aunt Nat,” Olivia agreed with a smile, though she wasn’t intending on drinking. “Have fun.”

“Bye, Mom,” Lydia added with a wave.

“Love you, girls.”

As Natalie shut the door, Allison turned to her friends, shocked. “Your mom lets you drink?”

“As long as we’re safe, she doesn’t mind,” Lydia answered nonchalantly. “I’m sure she did worse when she was a teenager.”

Olivia snickered, having heard many of her aunt’s wild stories from high school.

“Wow.”

“Well, I’m done with homework,” Lydia declared, shutting her notebook. “Who’s ready for manicures?”

Olivia and Allison exchanged grins.

-

-

Stiles and Scott watched quietly as Derek Hale stormed out of his fire-ruined house and into his Camaro, pulling away shortly after. They waited another five minutes in case he returned before pulling up to the house.

They were on a mission to uncover the other half of the dead body. Scott, who had visited Derek earlier in the day, had caught the scent of human blood buried in the front yard of the old Hale house and immediately called Stiles. Together, they went to the hospital so Scott could match the scent to the other half of the body located in the morgue. Unfortunately, they matched.

Stiles just felt bad for Olivia. She was so adamant that Derek hadn’t killed anyone, yet the evidence was right in his front yard.

Stiles killed the engine of his jeep and he and Scott climbed out, grabbing the shovels from the back. As they walked over to where Scott said the body was buried, Scott stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, something’s different,” he declared, inhaling deeply through his nose.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” Scott shook his head with a sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The two of them buried their shovels into the grave and started digging. Luckily, the dirt was still loose from being buried, so it was easier to dig than they expected. They spent a half-hour scooping up dirt and throwing it behind them, trying to find the body.

Stiles tried not to think about the dead girl that was buried where he was digging. He couldn’t imagine a family member being murdered, cut in half, and then buried in the yard of a deranged werewolf. Sure, his mom died, but at least he knew what happened to her. This girl’s family probably had no idea.

Scott exhaled loudly and wiped his sweaty brow. “This is taking way too long.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Just keep going.”

“What if he comes back?”

“Then we get the hell out of here,” Stiles answered simply, continuing to dig away at the grave.

“What if he catches us?”

“I have a plan for that.”

Scott raised his eyebrows at Stiles, waiting to hear his plan. “Which is?”

“You run one way, I run the other,” Stiles replied. “Whoever he catches first, too bad.”

Scott huffed. “I hate that plan.”

Stiles shook his head and went to bury his shovel in more dirt, only to stop when his shovel came in contact with something firm. “Stop, stop, stop,” he ordered Scott, throwing his shovel out of the grave.

They both bent down, using their hands to brush away the rest of the dirt covering the body. They found the body wrapped in a large tarp and tied with several knots of rope that they quickly got to work trying to untie.

“Hurry,” Scott urged, scrambling to untie the rope.

“I’m trying!” Stiles snapped. “Did he have to tie the thing in, like, a thousand knots?”

Eventually, they untied the last knot and pulled away the tarp. They screamed when they saw the body, jumping out of the grave entirely. 

There, where there was supposed to be the half body of a girl, was a dead wolf.

“What the fuck is that?” Stiles shrieked, pointing at the black wolf.

“It’s a wolf,” Scott said obviously, peering at it curiously.

Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, I can see that,” he rolled his eyes. “I thought you said you smelled blood. As in human blood.”

Scott shrugged and defended himself, “I told you something was different.”

Stiles shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“We gotta get out of here,” Scott changed the subject as he looked around, worried that Derek was going to come out of the darkness and murder them too.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Okay, help me cover this up…” he trailed off as he caught sight of a purple flower a couple of inches away from the grave.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asked, noticing his distracted gaze.

“You see that flower?” he pointed to the flower; Scott looked at it.

“What about it?”

“I think it’s wolfsbane,” Stiles said, shifting onto his knees so he could crawl over to it.

“What’s that?”

“Uh, haven’t you ever seen The Wolf Man?” Stiles asked his best friend. Scott shook his head, looking confused. “Lon Chaney Junior? Claude Rains? The original, classic werewolf movie?”

“No!” Scott exclaimed, exasperated.

Stiles sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t believe how unprepared Scott was when it came to his lycanthropy. “You are so unprepared for this.”

He crawled toward the flower and pulled it out of the ground, surprised to see that it was attached to a length of rope. He pulled at the rope, letting it lead him around the grave several times. As the rope ran out, Scott called his name.

He looked down and jumped, startled to see that the wolf had turned into a girl. “Holy shit!”

-

Stiles walked purposely toward the cruiser that one of his dad’s deputies’ put Derek in. He waved at Scott, who waited by his jeep, and looked around, hoping that all the police officers were busy, before he opened the passenger side door and slipped into the car.

Derek was seated in the backseat, already glaring at him through the metal grate that separated them.

“Okay, just so you know, I’m not afraid of you,” Stiles lied, trying to seem tough. He faltered as Derek’s glare hardened even more. “Okay, maybe I am,” he admitted shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. I just wanna know something. The girl you killed? She was a werewolf but she was a different kind, wasn’t she?”

Derek stared straight at Stiles, making him squirm.

“I mean, she could turn herself into an actual wolf and I know Scott can’t do that,” he continued. “Is that why you killed her?”

“Why are you so worried about me when it’s your friend who’s the problem?” Derek asked lowly, glancing through the window at Scott. He turned back to Stiles. “When he shifts on the field, what do you think they’re gonna do, just keep cheering him on?”

Stiles gulped, realizing that what Derek was saying actually made sense.

“I can’t stop him from playing but you and Olivia can,” Derek said firmly, leaning forward. “And trust me, you want to.”

Before Stiles could even reply or admit that maybe Derek was right, the door opened and he was pulled from the vehicle. His dad dragged him a few feet away from the car and gave him a disappointed look.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Noah demanded as Stiles rotated his arm where he grabbed him.

“I’m just trying to help,” Stiles declared.

“Okay, well, how about you help me understand exactly how you came across this.”

Stiles sighed loudly. “We were looking for Scott’s inhaler.”

“Which he dropped when?”

Stiles shrugged. “The other night.”

“The other night when you were out there looking for the first half of the body,” Noah stated dryly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes.”

“The night that you told me you were alone and Scott was at home.”

“Yes,” Stiles winced, realizing that he was caught in a lie. “No. Oh crap.”

“So, you lied to me.”

“That depends on how you define lying,” Stiles pointed at his dad.

Noah pursed his lips. “Well, I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it?”

“Uh, reclining your body in a horizontal position?” Stiles stated, waving his hands horizontally to emphasize his point.

Noah rolled his eyes. “Get the hell out of here, would you?”

Stiles nodded. “Absolutely.”

As Stiles walked away from his dad and toward his jeep, he saw Olivia and her aunt talking to a deputy. He gulped when she looked his way, practically shrinking under the heat of her glare.

He didn’t like being the subject of Olivia’s ire, but he consoled himself. At least she now knew the truth about her cousin being a murderous werewolf.

-

-

Olivia was going to kill Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall.

Not only had they gotten Derek arrested, which was a problem all by itself, but they dug up Laura’s body. They dug up her dead cousin from her resting place and now the police had it in their custody.

So, now Olivia had to explain to Natalie about how Laura was murdered and that Derek was back in town and she had to see about hiring a lawyer that wasn’t her uncle—he didn’t particularly like the Hale family—to defend him. She knew that the least he’d be charged with was obstruction of justice and maybe defiling a crime scene but that was way better than going to jail for murder—which he didn’t do.

Natalie didn’t explicitly know about werewolves but she knew that the Hale family was a lot weirder than the other families that lived in Beacon Hills. She knew and liked Derek, though, so she was happy to help Olivia contact a lawyer on Derek’s behalf. Olivia had spent all afternoon, trying to convince Jackson’s dad to take his case before Lydia pulled her away for the lacrosse game.

The game was the last thing on her mind and she definitely didn’t want to see Stiles and Scott but she knew Derek would want her to be there in case something happened.

So, she bundled up for the game, walking toward the field with Lydia, both of them carrying the large, glittery signs they made for Jackson.

Lydia practically shoved the sign she was carrying at Olivia when she saw Scott. Olivia rolled her eyes and followed her cousin as she marched over to the new werewolf to give him a piece of her mind.

“Olivia, hey,” Stiles walked over to her.

“Don’t talk to me,” she said flatly, looking around for an excuse to walk away.

She didn’t hate Stiles but she did have a reason to be mad at him. If he had just listened to her, maybe Derek wouldn’t be in jail right now.

“Look, I’m sorry that Derek killed that girl, Livvy, but shouldn’t be mad at me.”

“One, don’t call me that,” Olivia stepped toward Stiles, her head tilted so she could look him in the eye. “Two, Derek didn’t kill her, okay? I told you that.”

Stiles put his hands up defensively. “How can you believe that? He buried her in his front yard.”

Olivia shook her head. She didn’t know why she was even bothering to try to get him to come to his senses. He obviously wasn’t going to listen to what she was saying.

“Whatever, Stiles,” she stepped away from him, relieved to see that Lydia was done speaking to Scott.

Lydia grabbed her arm as she approached her. “Let’s sit with Allison and her dad,” she pointed up the bleachers where the two Argents sat.

“Um, okay,” Olivia nodded hesitantly.

Now she had to sit with an Argent hunter? Her day was going so smoothly.

“Lydia, Olivia,” Allison beamed at them as they climbed up the bleachers to the row where she and her father were seated. “This is my dad, Chris.”

Chris smiled politely at them and even though she was pure human, Olivia couldn’t help but shiver in fright. “Nice to meet you, girls.”

“You too,” Lydia shook his hand while Olivia nodded politely. Lydia turned to Olivia, trying to decide which one of them should sit next to Allison. “You should sit in the middle since you’re the shortest. Allison and I can hold up the sign above you.”

“Sure,” Olivia agreed, quickly sitting next to Allison as Lydia settled on her other side. “Excited for your first lacrosse game?” she asked Allison.

Allison grinned. “Definitely.”

The whistle was blown and the players of both teams ran onto the field. Jackson faced off with the other team’s forward, both of them crouching for the beginning play. The referee blew his whistle and the game began, Jackson scooping up the ball before the other player had a chance.

The ball was thrown between the players like a hot potato, each one of them avoiding Scott’s open net until he finally managed to get it. Unfortunately, he was tackled by Jackson, who ran down the field and scored a goal.

Olivia cheered along with the crowd as the scoreboard changed, Beacon High taking an early lead. On either side of her, Lydia and Allison held up their sign, Olivia cheering Jackson’s name to show her support.

The game went on, each team scoring and Scott not getting passed to at all. When the competitor was leading and Coach called for a time out, Chris leaned toward his daughter, Olivia, and Lydia. “Which one is Scott again?”

“Number eleven,” Lydia answered tersely. “Otherwise known as the only one who hasn’t caught a single ball this entire game.”

Olivia rolled her eyes at her cousin as Allison mumbled, “I hope he’s okay.”

“I hope we’re okay,” Lydia disagreed, not happy with the team’s losing score. “We need to win this,” she stood up, struggling to raise her sign. “Allison, Olivia, a little help here?”

Olivia and Allison exchanged annoyed looks and stood up, helping raise the sign that praised Jackson.

The crowd cheered as the ball was set up again. When the ref blew his whistle, the ball was scooped up and thrown high into the air. Olivia and the rest of the crowd watched in shock as Scott ran toward the ball, leaping high into the air to catch it. He ran toward the field, dodging players left and right as he got closer to the goal. He whipped the ball past their goalie and the crowd roared in excitement as he scored.

Olivia and Allison jumped to their feet—Olivia getting over her grudge in her excitement—and cheered loudly for Scott, wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders.

Olivia looked down at Lydia, who was still seated, pouting. “Oh, come on, Lyds! Cheer!”

Lydia rolled her eyes and got to her feet, reluctantly clapping.

“Pass to McCall!” Olivia heard Coach yell to his players. “Pass to McCall!”

Stiles trailed after Coach, screaming his encouragement for his best friend.

The game started up again, this time with the opposite team getting the ball. Scott ran up to the receiving player and, to everyone’s amazement, the player passed the ball to Scott. Scott ran down the field again, whipping that ball at the goalie and actually ripping the guy’s net.

Everyone jumped to their feet again as the scoreboard buzzed, adding another point to Beacon High. Unfortunately, the opposing team argued the play but Coach resisted, taking the referee’s whistle and blowing it, declaring it as a goal.

Once again, the ball was passed to Scott. He sprinted down the field, coming up against five different players. Olivia tensed up when she saw how jumpy he seemed and realized that he was on the verge of changing.

“Come on, Scott,” she whispered, hoping that he could hear her over the roar of the crowd. “Control it. Control it.”

Scott hesitated, the opposing team’s players closing in on him.

“You can do it, Scott,” Allison said from beside her. “You can do it.”

Scott abruptly shot the ball into the net, scoring the winning goal of the game.

The final whistle blew and the crowd went wild, rushing onto the field in excitement. As Allison ran off the bleachers, Olivia carefully watched Scott, who was running off the field.

She awkwardly said her goodbyes to Chris and walked down the bleachers, pausing when her phone buzzed.

Shockingly, it was Derek.

Derek: Out of jail. Talk later.

Olivia sighed in relief and looked around, coming face-to-face with Stiles without realizing it.

He gave her an apologetic look. “My dad told me about your cousin…”

Olivia pursed her lips. “Yeah. Now you know why I was sure he didn’t kill her.”

“I’m sorry, Olivia,” Stiles said softly. “Really, I am.”

Olivia sighed, pushing her hands into her coat pockets. “Thank you for apologizing,” she said sincerely. She awkwardly looked around, seeing that Allison had disappeared from the field, probably searching for Scott. “You might want to find Scott. It looked like he was having a rough time out there.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay, yeah…um, see you later.”

“Bye, Stiles.”

As Stiles ran off to look for Scott, Olivia found Lydia. On the way to their car, Olivia was just glad that Derek was out of jail. Maybe now they could finally rest—after Derek found the alpha who turned Scott.

(Gif is not mine)

[millie1536]

No Matter Where Or When

TW: Anxiety, Panic attacks

During their first few months Anne and Maggie seemed to have picked up exactly where they left off, the two of them were almost inseparable. So it surprised everyone when the two of them began avoiding each other. They would tense up whenever they saw one other, avoid eye contact and barely spoke.

She doesn’t need you anymore, Anne thought to herself as she lay awake one night, She’s got Bessie, Maria and Joan now. They’d never hurt her, unlike you. Anne rolled over and folded her pillow over her ears, but you can’t block out your own thoughts. You mad her watch her best friend die. She had to stand there and watch as your head was cut off. She always felt sick after executions, imagine how she must have felt after yours. She nearly passed out during a beheading, remember? And she didn’t even know the person. She hid behind you so she wouldn’t have to see and she still had nightmares for weeks afterwards. You knew that and yet you still put her in the position where she was forced to stand beside you as you died. Anne shut her eyes tight, doing everything in her power to block out the thoughts, Some sister you were.

 Maggie’s shaking hand hovered over her phone, She’s not going to like being woken up in the middle of the night. She’s already avoiding you, do you really think she’ll appreciate you calling her at 2 in the morning because or a stupid dream? Bessie’s more than happy to let you sleep in her bed so why bother Anne? Even if she is awake she’s probably with her cousin. Kathrine needs Anne more than you do. She’s just a kid, you’re an adult. Maggie let her hand drop back beside her. If you’re worried about annoying Bessie then Joan’s probably still awake, her sleep schedule is worse than Parr’s after all or you could go to Maria. Maybe she’ll let you play with her hair until you fall asleep. It’s not like Anne could do anything anyway. Even if she did talk to you on the phone it’s not like she’s going to jump out of bed and run over here to give you hug. Maggie bit her lip as she dragged herself out of bed. Maybe she would if she was your real sister but she’s not. She’s just a friend, or at least she was. She doesn’t want anything to do with you now. It’s like everyone says, your just the band. You don’t matter. Maggie could feel the tears building up as she crept into Bessie’s room.

“Maggie?” Bessie asked groggily, she was an incredibly light sleeper, “What’s wrong?” Bessie moved over to make room for Maggie. The guitarist didn’t say anything as she crawled into bed and curled up beside Bessie. “You’re alright, would you like to go back to sleep?” Bessie asked as she wrapped and arm around Maggie. Maggie just nodded before shutting her eyes.

It’s just you and Anne, see? You’re both alright. Maggie thought to herself. Annie’s right here. By the time Maggie drifted off to sleep she had almost convinced herself that it was in fact Anne holding her. Almost.

 The changes in Anne and Maggie’s behaviour hadn’t gone unnoticed. Everyone, including the audience, had seen the way Anne would look back at Maggie during the show only for her head to snap forward when she made eye contact with the other woman. They had stopped hanging out together between shows or texting each other until one of them had their phone taken away and was forced to go to bed. The two of them seemed more exhausted than both Cathy and Joan combined and Anne’s sense of humour seemed to have taken a holiday.

“What’s going on with those two?” Aragon asked one night, Anne having retreated to her room almost immediately when they returned home from the theatre. “They were always so close, it was like they were joined at the hip or something.” She said, remembering the days when Anne and Maggie had been her ladies in waiting.

“I’m not sure, but Anne’s hasn’t been sleeping much lately. Something’s bothering her.” Kitty’s hand fidgeted, she hated that she couldn’t help her cousin with whatever she was dealing with.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jane said, “It’s not unusual for them to be a bit jumpy.”

“Yeah, but Anne’s usually better at hiding it.” Anna pointed out.

“Plus Anne’s always the first person Maggie goes to when she’s struggling with something.” Kitty added.

 “Hey Anna, Bessie wanted to-“ Maggie stopped mid-sentence, “I’m sorry, I should have knocked.” She looked down at her feet, all the confidence drained from her. Maggie had a habit of walking into a room and talking to someone before actually checking if they were there. This time Bessie had asked her to see Cleves was still up for dinner that night but the only person in the dressing room was Anne.

“Don’t worry about it,” Anne tried to smile at the nervous girl but just ended up looking as anxious as she felt, “It’s alright.”

“No.” Maggie said suddenly, “It’s not alright.” Despite how quickly she had spoken her voice was still quiet, “I know better than to barge in like this. I never used to do it.” Maggie was gone before Anne could respond.

 “Now what?” Kathrine asked as she tried to think of a way to get her friends to talk. Bessie’s idea had flopped and had only resulted in both Anne and Maggie being even more on edge around each other.

“We need to get them somewhere they can’t avoid each other.” Jane thought aloud.

“We could lock them in a room together.” Catherine suggested, only half joking, “Or not.” She added when 7 pairs of eyes glared at her, “Or we could not do that.”

“What about a family dinner?” Cathy thought.

“Yeah, ‘cause the last one went so well.” Maria said, remembering what had happened when one of Anna’s dogs had gotten loose.

“Sorry about that.” Anna apologised for what must have been the hundredth time.

 Kathrine took a deep breath before knocking on Anne’s door.

“Yeah?” Anne asked, not getting up off her bed.

“Hey, can I come in?” She heard Anne laugh.

“It’s your room too, you know.” Kathrine took that as a yes and entered the room. Anne was sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop in front of her and her guitar in her lap.

“How’s it going?” Kathrine asked, trying to sound casual.

“Alright,” Anne shrugged, “I’m struggling a bit with this chord progression but I’ll get it eventually.”

“I’m sure Maggie would be more than happy to help you out.” Kathrine seized her opportunity. She noticed how Anne shifted a little at the mention of Maggie.

“Yeah, but she’s got her own stuff to do. I can work this out.” Anne looked back at her laptop, cutting off the conversation. Something about the way Anne was sitting told Kathrine it was better not to push her.

 “I’m running out of ideas.” Cathy admitted. It had been nearly a month and none of their attempts to get Anne and Maggie to talk had worked.

“Locking them in a room doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?” Aragon raised her eyebrows at the other women. To be honest, not even Aragon was a hundred percent sold on the idea but they were running out of options.

“Say we do trap them in a room,” Joan began, “Where would we do it?” It was a few hours before the group had a plan ready. They chose an old dressing room at the theatre that had been converted into storage. Their reasoning was that there was a camera in the room that would allow them to see what was happening, should something go wrong. The biggest question was how to get them in there.

 “Annie?” Kathrine said in the sweetest voice she could manage.

“Kitty?” Anne responded in a similar tone.

“Could you grab me my spare boots from the storeroom? The zipper on these ones broke.”

“Why don’t you get them?” Anne asked, she wasn’t annoyed at her cousin she just didn’t particularly want to do it.

“Because it’s creepy,” Kathrine pulled a face to emphasize her point, “It’s full of spiderwebs and stuff.” Anne sighed.

“Alright then.”

 “Fuck.” Bessie said, a little louder than she usually would have.

“What’s wrong?” Maggie looked up from where she was tuning her guitar.

“One of my strings broke and the spares are upstairs.” Bessie sighed, setting down her guitar.

“I can go get them for you.” Maggie stood up, “I’ve finished tuning and it will only take me a minute.”

“Thanks Mags, you’re a big help.” Bessie smiled as the younger girl ran upstairs.

 Anne didn’t look up from the pile of shoe boxes she was searching through when she heard the door open and close behind her.

“What happened to this place being too creepy.” She joked.

“Huh?” Anne turned around to find that it was in fact Maggie and not Kathrine who she had heard enter the room.

“Sorry. I thought you were Kitty.” Anne said quickly, turning back to the pile of shoe boxes, “Gotcha.” She grinned when she finally found the one she was looking for. Quickly she made her way to the door. locked. “Real funny Maggie.” Anne rolled her eyes looking over at a seemingly confused Maggie.

“What do you mean?”

“Just give me the key so I can give these boots to Kat.” Anne held her hand out to the girl.

“What key?” Maggie asked.

“The one you used to lock the door.” Anne was starting to get a bit fed up with the guitarist’s games.

“I didn’t lock it.” Maggie told her and something about her eyes convinced Anne she was telling the truth. Anne set the boots on the floor before turning calmly back to the door. However, her next move was anything but calm. Maggie flinched when Anne rammed her foot into the door in an attempt to open it. Nothing happened. A few kicks later and Anne gave up, instead pacing up and down the room.

“Are you alright?” Maggie asked after a minute or so.

“Fine.” Anne’s reply was harsh, harsher than Maggie had ever heard her. Sensing that Anne wasn’t going to talk anytime soon Maggie sat back against the wall and just watched the woman pace.

The changes were subtle at first, an increase in pace, breathing becoming a little less even. Maggie could tell something was wrong. Eventually Anne gave up pacing and went back to kicking the door. After a minute or so she began banging her fist against the wood, and then she started yelling. Maggie had to cover her ears when Anne began screaming through the door. She wasn’t paying much attention to what Anne was saying but it certainly wasn’t the kind of language Jane or Aragon would approve of. Maggie wasn’t sure when she became aware that Anne had stopped shouting, only that it worried her. Removing her hands from her ears and opening her eyes Maggie looked around the room. It took her a moment to spot Anne huddled in the corner, watching the door with wide eyes.

“Anne?” Maggie asked. Anne didn’t respond, “Anne? Are you alright?” Again there was nothing. Maggie decided that it was time to bite the bullet. She knew that Anne would prefer it if Cathy or Kitty were here instead of her but they weren’t. “Anne? Anne, can you hear me?” Maggie said, a little firmer as she approached the queen. She tried to remember what she’d seen the others do when Anne got like this. “Anne, it’s alright. You’re safe here.” She repeated the words she’d heard so many times. Gently, she rested a hand on Anne’s shoulder. Anne responded to the touch, but not in the way Maggie had been hoping. Her eyes flashed towards Maggie before she scurried away under a table. Maggie thought that she might have laughed under different circumstances. Carefully she crouched down in front of the table, making sure to give Anne some space.

“Anne, where are you?” Maggie asked, remembering how Anne had gotten through to her that night at dinner. Anne shook her head, whimpering. “Anne, can you describe where you are?” Again Anne shook her head.

“You need to go.” She said after a moment, her voice shaking as she looked Maggie in the eye, “You need to leave before someone sees you.”

 “Okay, this has gone too far.” Kathrine grabbed the key to the storeroom but Aragon stopped her.

“Look.” Kathrine did as she was told and looked back at the screen. Anne had retreated under the table, out of sight, and Maggie was crouched on the ground a metre or so from Anne’s hiding place.

“Yeah, Anne’s having a panic attack, I know.” Kathrine snapped.

“But look at Maggie.” Catherine raised her eyebrows, “I know it’s not ideal but maybe this will help them sort out whatever’s been going on.”

 “Why? Why do I need to leave?” Maggie asked, trying to piece together what was going on.

“They’ll kill you too if they find you here.” Anne pressed herself further against the wall.

“Anne, no one’s going to kill me. We’re at the theatre, remember?” Maggie said as it all fell into place. “You’re safe here, we both are.”

“But… Henry…” Anne stammered, her bottom lip beginning to tremble.

“He’s gone. He’s dead.” Maggie reassured her. Anne’s eyes seemed to grow distant as she thought about what Maggie had said. Slowly her hands made their way up to the thick scar around her neck.

“Maggie?” her voice was weak and full of fear.

“I’m here.” Maggie said. Hoping she wasn’t making a mistake, Maggie slowly crawled under the table. She couldn’t help but relax when, as soon as she was in arms reach, Anne latched onto her.

“It hurt.” Anne said, her voice muffled by Maggie’s hair, “It hurt so much.” Maggie could feel the tears soaking through her shirt but she didn’t care.

“It’s alright, it’s over now. You’re safe with me.” They stayed like that for a while before Anne pulled away.

“Sorry.” She said, wiping her nose on her sleeve, “It’s usually Kitty or Parr who has to deal with me when I’m like this.”

“Anne,” Maggie’s voice took on a serious tone Anne had never heard before, “I don’t mind. I’m not ‘dealing’ with you, I want to help you. You’re my sister.” Maggie hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud. Both Anne and Maggie froze.

“But… I thought…” Anne stopped to collect her thoughts, “I hurt you.”

“No, Anne you never hurt me.”

“But it was my fault you had to watch me die.” Anne’s voice rose as her breathing became more erratic.

“Hey, that was not your fault.” Maggie said firmly, then with a much softer voice she said, “Anne, you need to breath, alright? Can you take some deep breaths for me?” Maggie began to demonstrate, “That’s it. Good, you’re doing so well.” She encouraged Anne as she attempted to mimic Maggie’s breathing.

“I thought you didn’t want me around anymore.” Anne spoke so quietly that Maggie almost missed it.

“What gave you that idea?” Maggie asked, Anne just shrugged.

“I just thought that you didn’t need me anymore, now that you’ve got Bessie and the others.” Maggie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“I will always need you. You’re my best friend Annie, no matter where or when we are.” Maggie pulled Anne back into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.” Anne mumbled into Maggie’s shoulder.

“No, stop.” Maggie tightened her hold on Anne, “You have nothing to apologise for. You’re my best friend and I love you and I will always be there when you need me, I promise.” It took Anne a minute to respond, and even when she did she worried that her voice would crack.

“I love you, too.”

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 24/?

CLAMP AU n.3 [chengyu? yucheng? (JC/MXY) edition. don’t...question my taste bruh]: “Somewhere, sometime.”

[tw eating disorders mentioned + tw suicide mention (body sacrifice)]

[ok fam. ok. I get it. I would basically ship JC with a rock if it meant I could play with my crack AUs. but I have solid evidence for this one. I promise you.]

[so, “Kobato” from CLAMP is possibly my favorite series from them. it’s 6 volumes long, roughly 40 chapters (and I only recently found out there was an epilogue...even though it was not there in my published version of the series. bc your local cryptid did in fact buy the entire thing in the flesh, that’s how much I love it)]

[in this AU I’ll change some things for the sake of consistency, but I suggest you read it bc the hurt/comfort and pining is enjoyable...so...if you read my silly AU I’m afraid I will spoil the plot for u :( and that’s the last thing I want to do...I understand if you decide to go read the manga and skip my prompt. it’s ok, I’m fine, go and have fun ;-;]

[if you kept reading, hi :D]

[now. am I uncomfortable with certain common tropes in CLAMP’s work in general? yes. especially the age gaps between some of the characters, some of which are not adults. hence the reason behind the changes in this AU. but! the aesthetics fam. the beautiful drawings. the cute outfits. (*ﾉ▽ﾉ)

do you see these?? how cute would Mo XuanYu look in these fam?? I honestly hc him enjoying skirts and feminine outfits a whole lot, but you can imagine him with pants and they would be just as cute. my favorite one is the second from the left btw.]

(imagine Mo XuanYu like this btw and check out the fancomic by the same op! an anon suggested it to me a while ago and now I’m hooked!)

[other mangacaps bc you need visuals:

yeah. angry boy meets bby with a mission to accomplish, bonding over their inferiority complex. yep. I only love the nicest things in life. that’s me.

also look at my baby girl ;-; so cuTe]

[the title is from the ost from the anime series, “Itsuka dokoka de” (check it out!). the anime feels more cohesive than the original manga, possibly bc the pacing is handled a little bit better (since the manga was cut short and the end felt a bit sloppy, but the emotional engagement was still good). and I remember being 17 and crying like a baby when this song came in. if you don’t have time for the manga binge the anime instead! there are plot holes in both of them and the stories are different but still both very enjoyable if you like soft things and angsty vibes.]

[enjoy!]

*

*

When YanLi saw him for the first time in front of her door, at the beginning of spring, she thought XuanYu was too pretty and too young for his own good. Sitting across her on the floor, a tea set between them as he politely answered her questions, the boy couldn’t have looked older than sixteen yet he assured her he was of age and well into adulthood. Which seemed pretty difficult to assess, not with the way he dressed: cute button down, beret slightly askew on top of his pretty head and an old-looking suitcases in hand. She didn’t mention the stuffed black rabbit poking out from the front pocket of his luggage, which seemed more of a comfort thing than a reliable source of company.

Moreover, Jin Ling seemed transfixed by him, toddling his way towards their guest asking for cuddles... something her son had never done in front of strangers.

XuanYu refused to give his last name, nor did he have an ID he could show her, nor did he seem worried about how strange that was. And YanLi knew ZiXuan would have been against it, but she couldn’t leave the kid looking all over Lanling for a place to stay... so she gave him the only available room in their rundown pension.

She only hoped Jiang Cheng would be a nice neighbor and leave the kid alone. Who knew what horrors XuanYu was running away from, after all.

*

When XiChen heard from YanLi of her new tenant, he would have never guessed the kid to look so naive. Not in a bad way, mind you. But his smiles, for how genuine they seemed to be, looked a little bit too big. A little bit too strained not to be a distraction tactic from his part. Or maybe XiChen had lived too long surrounded by fake smiles and closed off people to not worry.

That’s probably why he gave XuanYu a job when YanLi asked him to look over the kid. More to prove himself there were still trustworthy people in the world than to give the younger man a chance. He couldn’t even pay him a full salary, not with the debt collectors breathing on his neck as he tried to run his late mother’s kindergarten.

But maybe that would have been enough for now. A starting point for something better, something new.

*

A-Yuan had always known the kindergarten used to be an orphanage back in the days, but now he had reached an age where doubts stuck to his head instead of being forgotten with the passing of time. Wen Qing and A-Ning were always busy -be it in the hospital or in university- and A-Yuan didn’t know if they loved him enough to keep him. Ever since granny had passed away he had wondered, day after day, when his cousins would have left him behind for good.

He was thinking about such things when he first met XuanYu, on the man’s first day on the job as a teaching assistant. A-Yuan was mulling over his sadness when XuanYu had come to his rescue, asking him what was wrong... before enthusiastically praising his cousins for working so hard after hearing they were late to take A-Yuan home. XuanYu stayed with him and they played on the swings as they waited for A-Ning to come pick him up, apologizing profusely.

On the way home, his cousin held him close and kissed his forehead as he asked him if he had had fun with the new teacher. And A-Yuan felt less doubtful afterwards.

*

After hearing the story from her brother, Wen Qing had made it her job to look into XuanYu and his weird approach to life in general. She took every opportunity she could grasp to spy on the younger man, lunch breaks be damned. She needed to confirm if the kid was a trust worthy person or a runaway child pretending to be older than what he actually was. Well, maybe tailing an unsuspecting young man on the streets of Lanling in scrubs and sunglasses would be considered a bit much, she could admit as much. But it was the thought that counted, no?

Her friend MianMian told her to knock it off and talk to the kid like a normal human being, but the truth was that... well, XuanYu was really too weird to be considered normal. He seldom put himself in dangerous situations without much care, such as picking up a random (and still lit) cigarette from the ground just to give it back to the person who had “accidentally dropped it”. Other times he would cross a road without looking left and right first, risking to be run over by cars at every corner. He never, never, fumbled with a phone and he frequently talked to himself... sometimes even directing his words to that creepy stuffed rabbit of his.

No thank you, Wen Qing felt safer behind light poles and crumpled newspapers held upside down. Even if that made her look sketchy as fuck.

*

Wen Ning made sure to arrive on time to pick A-Yuan up after that time, often chatting with XuanYu as they waited for his baby cousin to retrieve his backpack and raincoat. It was refreshing to speak with the younger man, no matter how weird he acted sometimes. Like that time A-Yuan asked him to tie his shoe-laces for him and XuanYu didn’t know how to do it. Or that time they caught the man taking a nap on the floor in the middle of the school hall. Or that time XiChen had ordered a cake for one of the kids’ birthday and XuanYu didn’t seem to know how to sing the birthday song.

Wen Ning had no place to judge, after all. But XuanYu’s smiles felt like balm on his heart. And if his sweet voice followed Wen Ning home as he bounced A-Yuan in his arms, well. Nobody needed to know that.

*

The last thing Meng Yao would have expected to hear that summer day when he called the kindergarten was a voice so different from XiChen’s. Startled, he had confusedly asked if the kid worked there and how so, given that the school definitely couldn’t afford to hire anyone. He ought to know. He was the debt collector.

But the kid apologized, introduced himself, and then explained XiChen had offered him a part-time job out of kindness more than out of need. The idiot. XiChen should have remembered who his money belonged to instead of taking charity cases left and right.

But when Meng Yao said as much to naive XuanYu, the other vehemently protested, surprising the debt collector with strong opinions on how he shouldn’t underestimate other people’s intelligence and kindness in the first place.

Meng Yao laughed out at that, genuinely so.

There was more to that kid XuanYu than what one would have expected.

*

Nie HuaiSang caught a first glimpse of the mystery man only in late summer, when XuanYu stepped into his cake shop to look at the display. His coworker MianMian seemed to recognize the younger man immediately, greeting him by saying they had a friend in common, namely Wen Qing. The kid merely tilted his head and answered he had never formerly met “Miss. Wen” and that he only knew who she was from what the woman’s younger brother had told him about her.

MianMian shrugged and smiled at him.

To which HuaiSang asked him what they could do for him and XuanYu... just... stopped working. Saying that he had wondered if he could do something for them instead. Apparently, Wen Ning had let it slip they were currently understaffed and needed a hand to deliver their sweets.

Delighted, MianMian set him to work, no matter how many times HuaiSang assured her they didn’t need to force the kid to help them... also because they didn’t actually have the means to pay him in kind. But XuanYu refused money altogether, simply asking them to let him help.

To their amusement (and horror) XuanYu didn’t know how to ride a bicycle, so he insisted on covering the deliveries by foot in the neighborhood instead.

HuaiSang called XiChen on the phone that same evening, asking him to give the kid some slack the following day. And maybe buy him some balm for blisters as well.

*

Jin Ling was young but he wasn’t stupid. Turning three had made him wiser, he knew as much. So he knew XuanYu was magical. He just did.

His pretty-gege talked with stuffed animals, always wore nice things, and kept in his satchel bag a vial filling up with magical candies every time he did something nice for others. A-Ling had seen it with his own eyes, that time XuanYu had put a plaster on his scrapped knee and blew on it to make the pain go away: the golden candy had appeared in the bottle out of nowhere and XuanYu had asked him to keep the secret.

And A-Ling may have been young, but he wasn’t a snitch.

No sir.

*

ZiXuan eventually stumbled upon their new tenant even though YanLi had tried everything in her power to prevent it. He was very displeased with her: taking a scrawny kid in, cutting his rent in half merely because he couldn’t afford to pay the room in full. Utter nonsense.

No matter how much this kid XuanYu praised A-Ling’s personality or YanLi’s cooking, no matter how much he smiled and made himself look accommodating and unthreatening. ZiXuan didn’t work pro bono even at the firm, let alone for his wife’s business.

Yet, when he asked to be let inside the kid’s room to formally discuss the terms of his contract (and tell him to pack his things and leave at the end of summer), ZiXuan was left speechless. There was no bed, no table or chairs. The fridge wasn’t humming and the AC wasn’t working. The only things he could see were the younger man’s clothes neatly folded in his open suitcase or hanging by the window to dry. No books, no snacks, no nothing.

Usually tenants brought their things in right off the bat, their stuff mailed in within a week after moving in. YanLi was very particular about it, she would have not overlooked something like that. But maybe she had been too busy with A-Ling these past few months and hadn’t noticed the kid was actually too poor to even breathe.

And now that he looked at him, XuanYu looked suspiciously skinny.

Was he sleeping on the floor? Didn’t he have covers for the colder season? Was his fridge broken, empty, or -gods forbid- purposely left with no power because the kid couldn’t afford the electricity bill?

“Do you actually live like this?”

XuanYu didn’t answer to that, but smiled anyway. It looked sinister in a way ZiXuan couldn’t explain, afraid of the things such a young man may or may not have endured in the past. And was maybe still enduring now.

The following day ZiXuan gave the kid their spare futon they bought in Japan on their honeymoon. They never had guests anyway and they could afford to pay for a tenant’s electricity bill every now and then, they weren’t poor.

Certainly YanLi would have agreed with him on the matter.

*

JinGy saw it. He did! He wasn’t lying! Xuan-ge was there, surrounded by darkness and shadows, looking over the children during their nap time, only a sliver of light coming from the door left ajar... casting shadows on half of his pretty face.

And he saw him reviving that stuffed black rabbit he always had on him.

The rabbit just rose on his hind legs and turned his head up and started whispering things to Xuan-ge, who nodded every now and then in deep though.

JinGyi had read about how paper-man talismans had been stuff of legends in the past. His books spoke of ancient times in which even corpses could be brought back to life. How even animals could turn into godly beasts if enough resentful energy polluted them. But he would have never thought magic could actually be real and so easy to play with.

And Xuan-ge had looked nothing but beautiful as he was talking to the stuffed animal, humming softly under his breath.

*

When Jiang Cheng dropped out of university for the second time, YanLi didn’t say anything and instead welcomed him back in his old room. So much for enrolling in law school at twenty-three, uh? ZiXuan would have been disappointed in him like the first time that had happened in his bachelor anyway, no point in avoiding the man. It was autumn anyway: it was either going back to the apartment complex or look for a new flatmate. But the school housing had rightfully kicked him out after dropping out in the middle of the academic year, so there would have been little hope for him to find a new place anytime soon.

What he did not expect to find was a new tenant living next door.

Sleeping in front of the door, clutching a satchel bag and a fucking stuffed animal on his lap.

Jiang Cheng jolted him awake and took in the sight of his shoulder length hair, his long lashes and sleepy eyes and thought he looked ridiculous. Wearing a silly hat and moccasins, purple shadows under his eyes, a confused expression on his worn out face. When asked what the hell he was doing there, sleeping out of his room instead of inside of it, the younger man said he had forgotten his keys inside that morning.

He was clearly an idiot, so Jiang Cheng walked away and returned to his room after more than a year away. If someone asked him who had rung YanLi to bring the spare keys to help the idiot he would have shrugged at them and shut the door in their face.

He didn’t have time for that, he had to think how to ask XiChen to let him back to work at the school the following day.

*

A-Qing had seen many things in life, met many horrible people, dealt with the scum of the scum... but she had yet to meet XuanYu. 

A menace. A hurricane. A fool. The amount of times she had had to scoop him up from the ground after he had clumsily slipped on invisible bananas and such should have earned her a honorary title for outstanding citizen. It’s been months since his arrival and the kids had already learned to make way whenever they saw him. He inspired fear even in their tiny heads, honestly. What a fellow teaching assistant, really.

She was just there to score brownie points for his electives and internship program to become a social service worker, that was true. But she cared about the kids enough to know she had to do something about that. The children loved XuanYu and they were this fucking close to either worship him like a small deity or criminal and something ought to be done.

The last thing she would have expected to see, however, was Jiang Cheng coming back so soon. Crawling back from university to ask to work there, wagging his tail like the lovesick dog he was. She could easily imagine what the older student would have said to XiChen, something on the line of “you know goddamn well I’m not doing it for the money. I grew up here, I don’t want to see this place crumbling down. I’m definitely not doing it because I’m in love with you and seeing you sad makes me want to gag.”

Well, maybe the last part could be considered artistic license from her part, but judging by what she could overhear behind XiChen’s office door... yep. She had definitely nailed the part about being fond of the ex-orphanage and for the rest... the sentiment was there. The pining bastard.

“Do you need anything, A-Qing?”, XuanYu asked her out of no-fucking-where, startling her as she pretended to dust off the floor very close to a door. Cheek-plastered-on-it kind of close.

“Nothing. Mind your business,” she answered, flustered as fuck.

XuanYu couldn’t be that naive, he knew what he was fucking doing. His creepy little smile so similar to the one the debt collect always had on his face. No wonder XiChen had fallen for such a tricky bitch.

“Then will you help me find JinGyi? He doesn’t want me to help him with his project for the festival and went into hiding again.”

There, that smile and knowing gaze. Judging poser. He looked much older than his alleged twenty years. He knew what he was fucking doi...

“You?!”

Jiang Cheng’s honest-to-gods screech pulled A-Qing out of her thoughts. She turned and had to witness XiChen amiably patting Jiang Cheng on the head as their boss explained him how XuanYu worked there. 

“It’s been almost six months now, he’s a very valuable kid and helped out around here while you were studying.”

Jiang Cheng was both livid and red with longing, because his touch-starved ass was all over that hand patting him platonically on the head. He was also angry, which was default for him... but there was something else underneath. Something promising in the way he stared XuanYu down.

Maybe A-Qing could win some candy by betting with the kids about such unexpected turn of events.

*

ZiZhen believed A-Yi. If his friend had told him the new teacher assistant was a witch then he was right. So they had started researching witches at the school, but only found a couple of colored books on the matter, mostly useless. All but one, telling the story of a nanny called Mary Poppins... some western thing.

But everything checked for the most part. The hat was there, every day a different one, but ultimately never leaving XuanYu’s head. The umbrella was not, but both him and A-Yuan had seen their gege with a parasol once and that was enough. His satchel contained infinite amount of things, from sweets to possessed stuffed animals, like a qiankun bag from the legends! He talked with things as if he could control them.

Well, even the teacher sometimes tried to convince the printer to work with sweet words, gently coaxing it back to life... maybe that was just how adults functioned. Even his dad would ask the fridge where his favorite cake had disappeared sometimes. Adults were weird.

*

Fuck Lanling. Rain day and night, autumn planning everyone’s demise by flooding every bloody year. Xue Yang was over it.

He took a random umbrella from the rack by the door of the convenience store and left without a second thought, already wondering what he could say to convince XingChen to offer him dinner somewhere new. The man wasn’t married anymore after all, so Xue Yang could technically have his way with him now, right?

“Excuse me!”

Xue Yang was not in the mood for people calling him out on his bullshit that night, but he turned anyway and saw the weirdest thing. A young man roughly his age, maybe a year or so younger, drenched from head to toe after rushing to him. He was panting, clutching a plastic bag full of cleaning supplies from the convenience store Xue Yang had just left.

“I believe you mistakenly took my umbrella,” the other said, pretty face framed by wet hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks.

Amused, Xue Yang shut the clear plastic umbrella he had “mistakenly taken” and held it at arm’s length by the handle, directing the pointy edge to the other like a sword. Hell if he was going to get wet himself, he needed to prove something to the idiot. He could handle a bit of rain for the sake of being dramatic.

“You want it back?” Xue Yang asked, rising his chin and arching an eyebrow at the other. The man nodded, holding his now wet beret in place on top of his head as if he was more worried about it falling on the ground than keeping his crown dry.

“I knew it was someone else’s when I took it.”

“But...?”

“And what’ll you give me back for it? What are you gonna do about it?”

This should have taught him not to mess with him: he didn’t even have to use his business tone to make the other take a step back. Meng Yao, the bastard, had taught him smiles went a long way in dealing with stupid people after all.

“Right, if I take it from you... you won’t have one to go back home with.”

Uh?

“Wait here. I’ll go buy you one at the convenience store. I’ll be back.”

Uh??

The idiot actually run back to the store and purchased him a fucking umbrella. And Xue Yang was twice as stupid because he waited for him to come back, startled as he was. The idiot was smiling megawatt bright when he came back as well, what the fuck?

The sick bastard extended the clear plastic umbrella to him like Xue Yang had done earlier, but he held it by the middle, as if surrendering his weapon. It was fairly similar to the one Xue Yang had stolen anyway, why bother asking for his umbrella back?

“Did your dead mother give this particular one to you or something?”

The bite in his words only mildly deterred the other man, who pressed his lips together before forcing an even bigger smile on his face.

“No. It’s pretty cheap. But it’s mine. It’s the first thing I bought with my money.”

Xue Yang left after that. With the stolen umbrella. Because he was still a scumbag and not a sentimental asshole. But he was very quiet that evening when XingChen treated him to some fancy takeout on his couch while lovingly drying Xue Yang’s hair with a towel.

Nothing made sense anymore.

*

Qin Su worried over Jiang Cheng. He was her best worker, but she knew for a fact that he had a million part-time jobs in town and she didn’t want to overwork him. She also knew he would give all of his hard-earned money to XiChen anyway. All to pay a stupid debt. The huge lovesick idiot.

Was he the fastest delivery driver? Yes. Was he the most well behaved of his staff? Not even close. But he was respectful enough to work over his issues and she trusted him with doing his job at the end of the day.

So when she found a young man in a frilly outfit waiting for her on the lobby of her shop asking for Jiang Cheng... well, she was pleasantly surprised.

He introduced himself as XuanYu and held a lunch box in his hands, saying Jiang Cheng had forgotten it at home. Which left A-Su properly impressed. How could a man as angry as Jiang Cheng secure himself such a lovely person was beyond her comprehension, honestly.

He was adorable and she wanted to be his sister like, yesterday.

But when Jiang Cheng came back from a delivery, entering the dumpling shop with his helmet still on, he stared XuanYu down and told him off right off the bat.

“Not you again,” he said, to A-Su’s utter confusion, “Can’t you take a fucking hint? I’m already avoiding you at work. I don’t want to be your friend.”

Something akin to hurt painted XuanYu’s feature for a fraction of a second before he could retrieve his smile and point at the lunch box.

“Your sister asked me to give this to you on my way out. A-Ling helped making rice cakes this time and wanted to hear from you if you liked them or not.”

Qin Su could have easily missed the change in XuanYu’s voice at that, that’s how much of a good actor he was. But Jiang Cheng had no face even to feel ashamed for lashing out at the kid like that. How much older could he be from XuanYu, three years? Two? Had nobody taught him some respect?

“XuanYu, if he bullies you again you come here. Am I understood?”

Like hell she was gonna let this gem of a child slip away from Jiang Cheng’s hands.

Not in a million years.

*

Song Lan breathed in and out. In and out. The clear morning air surrounded him like an old friend, hugging him closely as he clutched the papers for his divorce.

XingChen had signed them in the end. Five years together were now in the past for him.

Maybe they had been too young back then, when they had taken the chance to get married the moment the government announced the change in the law for people like them. How old have they been, twenty-three? Twenty-four? Another lifetime. An existence away.

He wished he could cry. It would have been easier.

But, as he turned a corner, someone stumbled into him and sent the papers scattering on the sidewalk. Song Lan tried to save them from being dirtied on a puddle but was unsuccessful. He didn’t know why he bothered anymore. It felt like the last piece of his lover had left and Song Lan couldn’t even prevent something as simple as that. XingChen’s signature dirtied in a pool, but not enough to be washed away. What a joke.

The young man in front him bowed down, apologizing profusely, trying to save the documents at the best of his abilities. He even suggested finding a public toilet to dry the sheets under the hot air blowing machine, the silly man.

Song Lan smiled instead, reassuring him it was fine.

He was fine.

But the kid accidentally read the first few lines of the agreement before looking up at Song Lan. And where he would have expected pity, Song Lan only saw consternation instead on his pale face. It was so startling to see it, that he had to crouch back down on the ground next to the kid and reassure him everything was fine. It was just paper, it wasn’t important, he didn’t have to feel so guilty about...

“It is important. Your life is important.”

Such a dramatic sentence, uttered so vehemently, should have sounded weird to Song Lan. Especially because he disapproved of such antics in the first place. But it sounded so sincere, so earnest that he felt touched for a moment.

So he helped the kid up on his feet and asked him to walk a bit with him, to keep him company. Reserved as he was, he would have never thought possible opening up to a stranger the way he did that day. But there was something calming about the kid, almost as if he had been put on earth to soothe other people’s existence.

So he told him how his husband had fallen in love with someone else, someone much younger than them. How this had strained their marriage even if Song Lan had known all along his husband had the ability to fall in love with more than one person at a time. But Song Lan was monogamous and would have never justified forcing his lover to suppress his feelings just to please him. So it had been Song Lan himself to call it quits and wish him all the luck in the world.

The kid had started crying at some point, without Song Lan even noticing at first.

“Why are you crying? Please no, I didn’t wan to upset you.”

“So much love. In different ways but... it’s too much. There’s so much of it, of course I’m crying for you and your loved one.”

Song Lan was many things. Too stern, too rigid, too peculiar about who could touch him or not, too cold in expressing his emotions. But he felt warm then, in front of a kid crying for him in the middle of the street, one day of late autumn.

“Thank you.”

***

XuanYu let it slip once with Mrs. Jin how little he remembered of his past. 

It wasn’t a lie, he really didn’t remember what it had been of him before he had met her, asking for a room. But the kind woman just assumed he was talking about his past or youth, so he didn’t correct her on the matter.

Knowing the truth would have scared her, after all.

But he still let himself trust her that day as they sat in front of a pot of tea and he pretended to drink and eat the pastries on the low table. He didn’t need to eat or drink. He wasn’t even sure he had a digestive system.

“I only remember... a song.”

“A song?”

“Yes. Someone singing every night before falling asleep. I don’t think it was meant for me to hear... but my body remembers the shivers. The feeling of being loved.”

“The body remembers the weirdest things, XuanYu. You should trust it more.”

He smiled at that, wriggling his hands on the handkerchief where he had hidden the pastries from sight.

“I’m pretty sure that song wasn’t for me. My body was merely there to listen.”

YanLi looked uncomfortable at that, something scary painting her features.

“Maybe I was eavesdropping,” he reassured her with a self-deprecating joke, not sure if that would have made her feel more at ease or not, “Maybe I was listening in, hoping such lovely words could be directed at me for once.”

Mrs. Jin sipped her tea for a long while afterwards, before finding the resolution to look up and stare him down with a serious expression.

“Unrequited feelings hurt, don’t they?”

XuanYu didn’t know what she meant by that, but he nodded anyway.

He heard something rustling in his bag and hid the sweets inside of it the moment YanLi turned to clear the table. If A-Ling heard someone munching their protests away from inside of the bag, he didn’t snitch on XuanYu and retrieved playing with Fairy on the carpeted floor next to him instead.

*

Lan Zhan was disappointed in him, XuanYu knew that much. They were admiring the sunset from the small balcony in their room, folding laundry.

XuanYu always wondered why Lan Zhan assumed the form of a black stuffed rabbit, of all things, but he didn’t want to pry. He didn’t even know his real name. The other had told him he used to be a human in his past life and that he hadn’t technically reincarnated in this lifetime. That his current form was just a mean to a goal, that he could use it to guide XuanYu and help him better that way without expending much spiritual energy.

He told him someone dear to him taught him how to manipulate paper-man talismans in his previous life. How similar the process had been to move around in a stuffed animal’s body. How convenient.

XuanYu believed he secretly loved it, even if Lan Zhan would have never said as much. He already talked very little to begin with.

“You told her you don’t remember your past.”

“That I did.”

“Don’t do it again”

XuanYu folded the last towel on his lap and then let Lan Zhan take a nap on it. He felt silly having to take showers and pretend to be a normal human being. He hated inconveniencing the Jins with him, accepting their bedding and paid kitchen appliances and so on. But if he wanted to accomplish his mission he had to make an effort to look normal... instead of spirited away from another world or maybe simply another era.

“I won’t do it again, don’t worry Lan Zhan.”

*

Lan Zhan was disappointed, but he was also patient to a fault.

Sure, it would have been much appreciated if Mo XuanYu didn’t lose him around every other day. This time the younger man had forgotten to pick him up from the floor where he had been reading stories to the children at the kindergarten.

But Lan Zhan was also a stuffed animal now, so it wasn’t like he could move around and risk being seeing by normal humans. His body was a vessel and any damage would have had repercussions on his soul as well. 

What to do.

He tried not to panic when he felt someone picking him up from the floor after an hour or so. He silently prayed for them not to be A-Qing: even in this life she was too smart for her own good and he couldn’t risk being found out so soon. Mo XuanYu wasn’t even halfway to complete his mission and Lan Zhan couldn’t...

“I’m sure A-Yu is looking for you, little guy. What are doing all the way back here?”

It was always difficult to hear his older brother’s voice in this life. To see his face, to notice how sad he was even in this new reincarnation of his.

Lan Zhan didn’t move a single muscle as XiChen dusted him off and put him in his apron front pocket as he looked for “A-Yu”.

In order to give a second chance to Mo XuanYu, Lan Zhan had sacrificed any possibility to ever reincarnate until his mission was accomplished. So XiChen didn’t have a younger brother in this lifetime and he would have not had one for a while. Lan Zhan missed him, but they had to wait for a bit more.

They still had three months to fill the bottle the King of Hell had entrusted Mo XuanYu with. Then he would have entered the list for reincarnation once more and everything will have been fine in the end.

Lan Zhan owed the kid his life, so he trusted him.

No matter what.

*

XuanYu remembered the boy who had stolen his umbrella. He remembered him well enough to recognize him when he found him crawling on the floor, a stab wound in his belly, one winter night.

Panicked, he asked Lan Zhan what they could do as he instinctively pressed the wound with his bare hands. Lan Zhan didn’t dare move not to attract attention on himself. The other man snarled out at XuanYu, asking him why did he even bother, seemingly recognizing him.

“I took your fucking umbrella. Hate me and leave me alone.”

“Ridiculous.”

Lan Zhan would have been proud of him for that remark, but XuanYu was too scared to think about it. He didn’t have a phone and he didn’t even know the number for emergencies. He wasn’t even qualified to be a teacher. How had he survived until then. He was useless and stupid and...

“What the fuck?” Jiang Cheng’s voice came in a whisper behind him.

What a sorry view the older man had to take in that night: a pool of blood staining otherwise clean clothes, a moaning boy on the ground in restless pain, a crying mess of a sad excuse of a human pressing on a throbbing wound next to him.

Jiang Cheng muttered something about the boy being one of Meng Yao’s men, that they should leave him there to die for all he cared.

The man under XuanYu barked back, telling him he had tried to “convince the idiot of the same”. But XuanYu was horrified by what he had just heard.

“People die for nothing. People die for fucking nothing. You don’t leave someone behind just because you fucking hate them.”

XuanYu has never cursed in this brief, borrowed life of his. Maybe spending so much time with Jiang Cheng had rubbed some of his habits off on him in the end.

Startled, Jiang Cheng seemed to agree with him because he fished out his phone and called an ambulance right away.

The stabbed man laughed at that.

*

Lan Zhan was clutched in XuanYu’s hands as they waited in the corridor of a badly lit hospital. The kid was crying, hard. He must have remembered how his family in Mo Manor had mistreated him in the past, how easily his own relatives had starved him off just out of spite. How already impossibly emaciated he had been when he had sacrificed his body for Wei Ying, to bring him back in a weakened vessel just to seek revenge. Just to let his hatred run free.

Such cruelty had earned him nothing but distrust from the hell judges, who sentenced him to never be reincarnated again. Only when Lan Zhan had ascended to heaven -many centuries after reaching immortality- he had been able to make them relent.

If Mo XuanYu could prove to be a good human being during a trial time of one year on planet earth, filling a vial with good actions in the form of golden gems, then they would have considered Lan Zhan’s proposal. Mo XuanYu would have atoned his sin and be granted a new life, a clean record, and a second chance at happiness.

Seeing someone almost die in front of him must have awaken something ugly in him. His stained hands, the iron stench in the air. All that blood... like the last thing he had most probably seen in his previous life before his body sacrifice. A scarlet array under his feet, another soul replacing his in his own body.

Lan Zhan let himself be held tightly in Mo XuanYu’s hands that night at the hospital.

And hugged back without anyone else noticing.

*

Xiao XingChen. That was the name of the man showing up at the kindergarten one week later. XuanYu had never seen him before, but the man hugged him in front of the kids, alerting both XiChen and Jiang Cheng.

“Thank you,” the tall man said in between tears, holding him tight.

“I don’t understand. I...”

“You saved A-Yang. Thank you.”

XuanYu pressed his lips together tightly at that, so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to say. His fingertips hurting with sometimes akin to electricity the more he let himself be held so fiercely by the other man.

He started crying in earnest only after the man had left, surrounded by the children who worried and fussed over him. He fell asleep with them during nap time and when he woke up he found Jiang Cheng placing a quilt over him.

Caught red handed, the older man feigned disinterest in the beginning... but then he sat down next to him. Just like he had done in the hospital one week ago.

“Did you see someone die before?” Jiang Cheng asked then, awkwardly scratching the back of his head, “You had such a strong... reaction to my words. It was insensitive of me. I apologize for angering you. I’ll better myself.”

XuanYu didn’t answer at that. 

Jiang Cheng would have never understood what it meant to sacrifice yourself to hatred and revenge. How much it had scarred him to be brought back to life, but only as a worn out set of robes on top of someone else’s soul. How distant he had felt when the Yiling Patriarch had inhabited his body and had let himself be touched by someone else.

Jiang Cheng would have never understood what it meant to be touched in the flesh but be utterly unreachable as a soul. Or how much it hurt to become an empty body filled by someone foreign and new. Someone who could wear his skin better than him.

Jiang Cheng would have never understood. And thank all the gods for that.

So XuanYu... Mo XuanYu kept quiet and smiled instead.

*

Lan Zhan didn’t trust Jiang Cheng. He hadn’t in the past and he wasn’t gonna start now. Wei Ying would have been so disappointed in him for thinking badly of his baby brother, but there was little Lan Zhan could do about that.

Wei Ying wasn’t there to judge him for it.

Mo XuanYu would wake up every morning and wash himself, get dressed and tidy up the room before leaving. He would fix his appearance in a mirror Young Lady Jiang had gifted him in autumn, making sure his hat was still in place.

“What would happen if I were to...?”

“You must keep your hat on... even when you sleep. You know this much.”

“I wear a headband to bed.”

“And what of it?”

“It’s... silly.”

“Nobody can see you in your sleep. Why the sudden worry?”

Mo XuanYu said nothing in response to that, but Lan Zhan knew. The kid had never worried too much about his appearance aside from looking proper and well dressed. He had never fussed over his features, but recently he had taken the habit to walk dangerously close to makeup stores and check various displays at the convenience store close by. Lan Zhan knew Mo XuanYu had remembered his past... how he had quickly realized he was already an adult. With needs and desires.

But now a brand new reincarnation of Jiang WanYin would wait for him every morning to walk to work together. Now Jiang Cheng acted pleasantly enough to be considered kind and doting to someone starved of affection like Mo XuanYu had always been. Which wasn’t planned, it had never been.

Lan Zhan didn’t like where this was going.

He didn’t like it at all.

*

Nie HuaiSang came to bring a cake for XuanYu one day or so before the end of the year, snow sticking to his hair and flushed cheeks.

“I don’t know when your birthday is... so I’m pretty sure I’m late to the game. But I wanted to thank you for helping me and MianMian that one time. So I made a cake for you. I hope you like strawberries.”

Mo XuanYu had no idea if he liked them or not. He couldn’t even eat.

He started crying in the middle of his room, where HuaiSang had placed the boxed cake on top of his low table.

Panicked, HuaiSang jumped up and out of the room to alert Jiang Cheng next door. But upon seeing the other man’s worried expression XuanYu cried even harder.

“What did you do to him, you bastard?”

“I’m not the one who used to prank people all the time. Grow up!”

“You clearly did something horrible to him for...”

“A-Cheng we’re not twelve anymore. Who do you take me for?”

XuanYu took his chance to stuff his face with cake, gulping it down bit by bit even if he knew he didn’t have the necessary organs to process it without vomiting it all out in an hour or so. He had tried many times to hold food down to no avail. His body rejecting it as if it was poisonous and dangerous.

He had tried so many times... to practice. To be able to appreciate YanLi’s generous cooking, to help A-Ling and the children at school prep their lunches and maybe... maybe to eat with Jiang Cheng every now and then.

Nie HuaiSang hugged him and patted his head, confused but too scared to ask for an explanation. Mo XuanYu smiled at him and lied, saying his cake was the best he had ever eaten. It wasn’t the best. It was simply the first.

He had no way to compare it with anything else, really.

*

Wen Ning had heard about his “stomachache” from XiChen, who had known all about it from YanLi and Jiang Cheng. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise for XuanYu when he saw the older boy in front of his apartment complex the last day of the year.

But it was a surprise.

“Can we talk for a bit?” Wen Ning asked, holding his umbrella up for XuanYu to walk beside him, protecting him from the icy snow.

They walked to the nearest park, sitting under the gazebo to watch the snow falling down. Their heavy coats keeping them warm, despite the cold.

They used to take long walks back from the kindergarten with A-Yuan after school, since the Wens lived close to XuanYu. Before Jiang Cheng came back anyway.

Wen Ning looked uncomfortable, fidgeting with his fingers as he tried to find the right words. He surprised XuanYu by telling him how, in the past, he had suffered from an eating disorder and had been hospitalized for a while in his teens. How worried his sister and their grandma had been for him, how much they helped him in his recovery. How alone he had felt for years still, no matter how loved he was.

“A-Yuan told me he never saw you eat. So I was wondering if you needed help.”

It wasn’t the case, but XuanYu knew he meant well. Telling him everything was fine would have only worried him more, so he tried to explain an half-truth that could satisfy him. Saying it was difficult for him to process food, that in the past he had suffered from malnutrition and now he had digestive issues.

He was talking about his past life, but he figured that could work as well.

When they parted ways in front of the apartment complex, Wen Ning asked to hold XuanYu’s hands for a bit. He cradled them carefully, as if they were precious. His slender fingers cupping XuanYu’s smaller palms almost reverently.

“I know you don’t feel the same about me. But I’ll ask you to look after yourself anyway. Not out of obligation for me... but out of respect for yourself, if nothing else.”

The moment Wen Ning let go of his hands, Jiang Cheng stepped out of the front door of the building and saw them.

He said nothing and walked away after stepping out of the gate.

*

Lan Zhan would have very much liked to flip a finger at Jiang WanYin’s forehead. Hard. Wei Ying would have done the same, he was sure.

Wei Ying would have also smacked some sense in his baby brother, forcing him to face his feelings and take responsibility for what he was doing to poor Mo XuanYu.

Who was currently waiting for the other man’s return like a dog by his room balcony, surveying the front courtyard like a bird of prey from above.

Lan Zhan tried to coax the kid inside, reminding him snow was still falling down and that his beanie was slipping away. He tried to be gentle about it, knowing how much XuanYu had grown resentful of the hats he had to constantly wear.

But the younger man simply shrugged, saying he wanted to wait for another five minutes. Just one more. Just to make sure.

Jiang Cheng didn’t come back that night.

And Mo XuanYu cried in his sleep clutching the half-empty vial to his chest.

Lan Zhan spent the night watching over him, singing to him the song he had written for Wei Ying. He snuggled close to XuanYu and made sure his wide headband was covering the crown of his head, before pressing himself to the other’s forehead.

He never stopped singing.

Wishing he could take all the pain away.

*

YanLi, A-Yuan and even ZiXuan knocked on his door to greet him into the new year, despite how XuanYu should have been the one to pay his respects to his landlords.

But they asked him to visit the funeral home with them instead, to say their thanks to YanLi’s parents with offers and flowers.

He dressed in his best clothes, having never been in what seemed to be a modern version of the ancestral halls of his childhood in a past life. The establishment was fairly sterile, with shelves filled with plaques and pictures instead of wooden inscriptions on an altar. The lot of them bowed and said their thanks, chatting with the late Jiangs almost as if they had never left. YanLi apologized to her mother for Jiang Cheng’s absence that year like any other year, while ZiXuan told his father-in-law how they would have visited the Jin ancestors during Chūnjié to make it fair.

XuanYu looked at them and barely kept himself from crying.

On their way back, YanLi explained her parents had died when she was still twelve and Jiang Cheng was merely six. How they had lived in the orphanage run by XiChen’s mother and made friends with the boy, who was YanLi’s classmate. How the siblings stayed there until YanLi came of age and got custody of her baby brother. ZiXuan’s family of lawyers had helped her pro bono and that was how she had met the man and fallen in love with him. Even if it had taken a while for ZiXuan to notice her at first, preoccupied with university and law school as he had been at the time. But the Jins helped her with the inheritance left by the late Madame Yu: the apartment complex where they currently lived.

Watching them explaining their past in such detail moved XuanYu deeply. Feeling as if they wanted to make him part of their family by filling in the gaps for him.

That was still his older brother after all and those were still his sister-in-law and his beloved nephew and he... he loved them. He had missed them so, so much.

And he was about to leave them again soon.

*

Wen Qing finally showed herself up one day at the park, when Mo XuanYu was taking Fairy out for an evening walk. She approached him by telling the younger man she had assisted in the surgery Xue Yang had undergone some time back.

Lan Zhan (hiding in the kid’s coat pocket) could see how startled the kid was at the mention of the criminal, but he decided to trust this version of Lady Wen as he would have done in the past.

Wei Ying cared deeply for her, after all.

Whatever truths she was about to entrust Mo XuanYu with, Lan Zhan knew the kid could take it.

He hoped as much, at least.

*

Jiang Cheng came back only for Chinese New Year. Saying he had stayed at XiChen’s since the winter break allowed them to take it easy and figure some stuff out for the following school year.

It hurt to know where he had been all along, but XuanYu braved a smile anyway. He knew how much Jiang Cheng cared for the older man, how much he wanted to save the school from the debt collector. How much he didn’t love XuanYu back.

So he let himself cry one last time before waking up one morning and deciding he had had enough.

He talked with Lan Zhan, asking him to tell him all about Wei WuXian and their love. If XuanYu’s sacrifice had allowed them to be happy as they deserved in the end. If Lan Zhan hated him now, for forcing him away from his loved one, who was currently waiting for him to come back to heaven.

Mo XuanYu knew the couple had sacrificed their chance at reincarnation to allow him to seek a second lifetime for himself. He knew Wei Ying watched over them from up above, waiting for Lan Zhan to secure a new life for the kid.

They talked all day and then well into the night.

By dawn Mo XuanYu had decided what to do.

*

XuanYu properly met Meng Yao one day of early spring, when flowers weren’t yet brave enough to poke their way out and greet the sun. The man was dressed in black, his hair cut short, a sigarette between his lips as he waited patiently for the kindergarten to open.

It was XuanYu’s duty to open that morning, so he was the one to greet the man.

Upon hearing his voice, Meng Yao immediately recognized him.

“There you are. I was waiting for you.”

“Me?”

“You’re the kid who answered the phone. And the one who helped my subordinate back in winter, right?”

His dimples were so deep, his face so pleasant.

Mo XuanYu remembered him from another lifetime. He remembered how much he had cared for his older brother Jin GuangYao. How hurt he had felt when the other had lied and accused him of harassment just to get rid of him.

But this was a new life and Meng Yao was just a man.

Who happened to have been married with XiChen for a while before turning to a life filled with crime and gang violence.

Wen Qing had told him Meng Yao had initially tried to live far away from his adoptive father Wen RuoHan. All for the sake of marrying XiChen and keep him safe. But XiChen’s mother still had had a debt to pay for the construction of the orphanage, a price too high for her to pay with her poor health and delicate disposition. A debt that XiChen had inherited from her when she had died.

That was why Meng Yao had left him: to go back to his father and ask him to handle the debt himself, supplicating him to overlook such small issue and let him dry XiChen out of every penny and cent instead.

Wen Qing may have learned this only from the gossiping running in her family, with the Wen Clan being as big as it was, but she was pretty sure of what she had told XuanYu. That Meng Yao had simply faked having fallen out of love with XiChen to protect him from his adoptive father and his cruelty. That XiChen still loved him and was waiting for him to fight alongside him instead.

Mo XuanYu knew all of this.

So now he could act and fulfill his mission.

*

“I want to pay the debt XiChen owes you.”

“You are full of surprises, XuanYu. And how do you plan to do that?”

“I can do many things.”

“You’re very pretty, you can make good money out of it.”

XuanYu considered his words before shaking his head.

“It’s not something I can do.”

“Then what can you do?”

“I’ll solve everything.”

“I’m all ears.”

“But you’ll have to stop making XiChen worry so much.”

“That’s not how business work...”

“Lie to me. Give your word and I’ll... I will solve everything.”

Meng Yao humored him and nodded.

Then and only then, Mo XuanYu took his hat off.

*

Lan Zhan had watched the entire scene unfold before his eyes without intervening, trusting Mo XuanYu with such an important choice. He took in the sight of the beautiful spiritual light shining brightly on top of XuanYu’s head like a crown.

His soul in full display, its energy so raw it had slowed down time all around them.

Lan Zhan turned around and looked at XiChen, who had just turned a corner and had been walking towards XuanYu to greet him good morning. Frozen in time, his older brother’s face still looked peaceful... simply because he had had no time to notice Meng Yao’s presence quite yet.

Lan Zhan turned once more and saw Jiang WanYin making his way in a rush towards them, surely to protect XuanYu from Meng Yao. When did he arrive? His features trapped in a perpetual frown, scared for the one he truly loved in this lifetime.

Then, Lan Zhan looked up at Mo XuanYu and saw him taking the bottle only half filled with gold... which symbolized his goodwill and generous spirit.

“Will this be enough to grant a wish, Lan Zhan?”

When XuanYu said his name like that he sounded so much like his Wei Ying, full of hope and love.

“It depends on the wish, A-Yu.”

“I reckon it’s not enough for a new reincarnation, eh?”

“It’s enough to save a life... but not yours.”

XuanYu looked crestfallen, but he persevered still.

The bottle transformed into a bag filled with money and XuanYu made his way to XiChen and left it at his feet before smiling up at his mentor and employer.

“I cannot rewrite the past, but maybe I can plan a better future for you.”

Still smiling, XuanYu slowly walked over to Jiang Cheng and said his farewells.

Then he crouched down and took Lan Zhan in his hands, kissing him goodbye on the head affectionately.

“Erase me well, Lan Zhan,” he whispered then.

Before disappearing into thin air.

***

Wei Ying had agreed with him, suggesting the idea himself.

In the end the King of Hell had granted Lan Zhan’s request and offered Mo XuanYu a second chance anyway. Since this new self-sacrifice had been fueled by positive emotions instead of anger and despair, the hell judges had considered the atonement fulfilled and put the kid’s name back on the reincarnation list.

Twenty years had past and many things had changed.

For starters, the kid’s last name wasn’t Mo anymore, but Nie. The boy had, in fact, born into Nie MingJue’s family and had lived overseas in Japan for a while before moving back to Lanling when XuanYu turned twenty. Nie HuaiSang had met him many times during summer vacations and other festivities, visiting his brother and his wife every chance he had gotten to dote on his cute nephew XuanYu.

Nie MingJue had done a remarkable job in protecting him from harm. So, by the time their little family had decided to move close to HuaiSang, XuanYu had become a well adjusted adult with a brilliant future ahead of him.

Nobody remembered him.

Or so Lan Zhan had thought.

Apparently, he had forgotten to wipe Jin Ling’s memories thoroughly. So, when The Nie family had come to greet HuaiSang’s friends YanLi and ZiXuan, A-Ling almost had a stroke out of incredulity and happiness for being reunited with his “A-Yu”. Even if Jin Ling was now older than the pretty-gege from his memories. Even if he had spent years trying to figure out why nobody seemed to remember the weird uncle living next door to his Jiujiu years back.

XiChen and Meng Yao had solved their problems and had started running the school together right after Wen RuoHan sudden and mysterious disappearance. The man had many enemies after all. 

A-Yuan had grown up into a fine young man, someone Wei Ying would have certainly been proud of, working with his cousin Wen Ning at the local botanical garden while his friends still studied in university. 

Nie HuaiSang had married Qin Su and opened a restaurant with her. 

MianMian and Wen Qing had decided to live together and adopt a bunch of dogs just because. 

Xiao XingChen and Xue Yang still lived together while Song Lan had found his way back to them after talking it out with the couple. 

A-Qing was probably running some sketchy business in social services to protect kids from horrible families.

Lan Zhan was still, unfortunately, a stuffed rabbit. Following XuanYu in his new life in the most unexpected of ways. In the form of the first present the boy’s uncle had gifted him in childhood. If Wei Ying had pulled a string or two from heaven to make that happen, well, Lan Zhan himself was none the wiser. The only thing he knew was that XuanYu had always taken him with him in all his travels even if he didn’t know he could speak. Lan Zhan had preferred not to reveal his nature and let the kid have a normal childhood. Especially since he had no memories of his past as a tenant in Jiang YanLi’s house. Nor of his life as a cultivator.

Wei Ying had agreed they could wait to be reunited again. The both of them wanting to look over XuanYu for a little longer before getting their own chance at reincarnation. They had all eternity to be together again... they could definitely wait a bit more for the kid.

All was well.

Aside from the other person whose mind Lan Zhan had conveniently forgot to wipe clean of any memory of XuanYu.

In his defense, Lan Zhan had tried to make Jiang Cheng forget. But something about XuanYu must have touched him so deeply... that Lan Zhan had not been able to do much about it. The kid’s smiles and clumsy antics would always linger in the back of the other’s mind no matter how much he tried to ignore them.

Coming back from his job at ZiXuan’s firm, exhausted and vulnerable, Jiang Cheng decided to visit his sister the same day Nie MingJue had brought his family there. So he was particularly weak to the sight of a bright, soft XuanYu when YanLi introduced her younger brother to their guests.

To Lan Zhan’s absolute delight, Jiang Cheng immediately bowed down to a scary looking Nie MingJue and asked his son’s hand in marriage.

Yes, grovel to this precious boy and learn your place.

XuanYu only tilted his head at that weird man bowing to his parents and smiled.

His laughter ringing up to the sky, where Wei Ying was still listening.

From where he would have kept watching.

*

[I worked so hard on this please reblog]

*

[kobato means “little dove” I thought it was cute since XuanYu is a magpie! + I wanted MXY a chance at life and for once this is a reversal-sacrifice from WWX’s part and I think it’s neat.]

[JC would be 43 or so... which yikes. but this is all I could do. I don’t like huge age gaps but at least everyone is a consenting adult, okay?]

[the thing that started this was like “what if LXC was an only child and LWJ did not reincarnate bc he’s still in the afterlife or something? then the entire thing escalated so...yeah.]

now I will cry for ages. I worked so hard on this good god D:

[glassesaremyonlyweakness]

Literally about all of my Music Meister headcanons

This is really fucking long I wrote this over the course of a few days for another thing that will probably take a few more days and I went overboard If you decide to read this; bear with me (Also send me questions about him I’ll add the answer to my next entry in this big ass clusterfuck)

- The Music Meister’s real name is Dennis Neville Prowell, but he changed it to Alastor Prowell because people made fun of him as a child for being named Dennis Neville. Plus, he always says it's so uncool for a slick guy like him’.

- He kept his last name cause Prowell is his mother’s name and the guy’s a mama’s boy, he’s soft, give him a break.

- The Meister is actually Welsh on his mother’s side. He’d learn how to speak the language, but the guy knows how to play *every* instrument. They say the brain can never be full but it sure as hell can be cramped.

- Alastor has a little sister, she’s a little baby, well not really, but she’s like nine. Her name is Jacqueline, and her big brother calls her Jackie.

- Jackie was born thanks to a sperm donor, since the father is no longer in the picture. Jokes on him, Ms. Prowell is the one with the fortune now.

- Alastor isn’t the best with kids (they’re annoying and he’s impatient), but Jacquline is his little princess. His mother has to stop him from spoiling her rotten all day with dresses and jewelry and sweets.

- High-key, he really wants to get her a pair of musical note glasses like his.

- (I might make Jacquelin her own headcanon page tbh)

- Of course, the family doesn’t know that their beloved son/brother is the corrupt conductor himself, y’know until he gets arrested.

- Strangely enough, no one of the Meister’s direct family are affected by his singing voice. By direct family, I mean his father, his mother, and Jackie. Aunts and cousins are affected, definitely, Alastor proved such on one of their many family trips back home when he was thirteen and edgy.

- He believes it has something to do with his dad, maybe, but he can’t be too sure. If only he knew the guy more than he does right now…

- Anyway.

- If musicals was a religion, Alastor would be the cool local pastor who preaches on Sundays and actually *bakes* brownies for the fundraiser instead of buying them from the store, *Linda.*

- He loves almost all of them (almost), but will not divulge which one’s he dislikes. He’s gotta stay on brand.

- The man will go fucking off though if you let him, whether or not he’s talking about one he likes or dislikes. He has a lot to say.

- Some of his all time favorites that were on Broadway are Phantom of the Opera (it’s a classic) and Wicked. If were were going to categorize it by how good the songs are, he likes the songs from the Waitress, and Something Rotten, and the recent Beetlejuice musical.

- I think it’s safe to say that he sings those songs all the time no matter where he is or what he’s doing, even the collar that Arkham Asylum gives him that makes is so he can’t sing can’t stop him from humming them at the very least.

- When he gets upset he talks a bit faster and then the gap in his teeth gives him a front lisp.

- Whenever he starts lisping, everyone will know, cause once he realizes what he’s doing he’ll cover his mouth and look super embarrassed. (Spoiler alert: he doesn’t really like his angy lisp.)

- This is getting too long isn’t it

- What else is there I know there’s more…

- Real time, I’m fucking blanking right now

- Oh yeah I wanted to talk about kid Meister too

- Alastor, from birth to eleven, was practically an angel. He always listened to his mother, he did his homework, he ate his vegetables, and he even got that bowl haircut that his mother insisted on him having for a few years because it made him ‘Look like a little gentleman’.

- Yeah his mom was really good at embarrassing him in public.

- Speaking of his mom again, she was the one to give Alastor his first singing lesson.

- He had a heavenly set of pipes and she made sure that he knew so every day.

- His father was less than eager to do so.

- In fact, he wasn’t really involved in Alastor’s life other than having a hand in conceiving him. He always had ‘better things to do’, which always struck up arguments whenever he mentioned it to his wife.

- Alastor has never explicitly *heard* his parents argue, but he would always be able to tell when they did because his mom would send him outside to play for an hour or two. By the time he’d be back, both of his parents would be avoiding each other for the rest of the day.

- Legally, his father lost full time custody of Alastor when he was around twelve.

 - It went from Mom on Sun-Wed and Dad on Thur-Sat, to Mom on Sun-Thur and Dad on Fri-Sat, until eventually, Mom obtained full custody by word of the court. Alastor doesn’t recall hearing from him ever since then.

- When it came to the bullies, Alastor was picked on for pretty much everything about his person. I mentioned his name earlier, but there was how he dressed in a sweater vest everywhere and always had a little green bowtie, his bowl cut, the gap in his teeth, his lisp (which was much more prominent until he lost his baby teeth), even his tube socks aren’t safe from them, just cause they’re a bit frilled at the tops. As explained in his very first villain song though, the main reason he got picked on was because he was a boy who sang in choir.

- At first it was rather simple bullying, verbal stuff about how much of a nerd he was, how stupid he looked, calling him a momma’s boy (as if that was a bad thing). But it quickly escalated to threats and physical violence.

- The worst was *about* to come when they were going to ruin a choir show during his solo, until the strangest thing happened.

- The bullies decided that they would let him sing a bit before enacting their plan, but as soon as Alastor saw them, he got stressed very quickly, and wished that they would just leave him alone. And to his surprise, they did. They just stood there at the last row of chairs and didn’t do anything. They didn’t even like…..emote..or move like,,, at all? Alastor really thought he’d see the guys get impatient and start fidgeting and moving around until someone gave some sort of signal and let everything go to hell, but nope. They stood there patiently during the whole solo.

- They started avoiding him after that incident, strangely. Like when you’re walking on the sidewalk, and you see someone really creepy person walking towards you on that same sidewalk, so you take the time to move to the other sidewalk? That, except Alastor was the alleged creepy person and the bullies were the person who took the time to exchange sidewalks.

- The only other time he caught them again was around half a month later? That was after class outside the school when he was waiting for his mom to pick him up from choir class. The bullies really couldn’t help themselves but make fun of his choir robes on their way out, but he was a bit more prepared for this encounter than they had anticipated.

- He started singing again, belting simple commands and making them pick things up and walk around and

- Listen.

- The power could not have gone to his head any faster.

- He made them dance intricate ballets and sing along to some of his chords, all until his mother finally drove up.

- He released the bullies, and went on with his day, solidifying his brand new status as someone to be feared.

- During his teenage years he fully embraced this status.

- Boy became a 100% certified hunk

- I mean punk

- But actually though I didn’t mean to type hunk

- All of his clothes were either ripped or leather and he grew out his hair, and he kept his sick musical note glasses from when he was young (he just got a bigger pair is what I mean, his head still grew).

- Really, he was the kid that no one would want to mess with, as well as the one your parents warned you about when you were six.

- He was a bean pole until puberty literally turned him into a box man.

- Literally though.

- His shoulders got broad, his muscles got big, and his assssests became uh, more ideal for a villain? Yes let’s go with that.

- What I’m saying is, bean became box and also he’s a part time criminal.

- He kind of just stole little things, like a pack of gum that wouldn’t be missed from those racks of stuff near the cash register at a Stop and Shop or something.

- And then he robbed a bank over the intercom, that was pretty impressive.

- Am I uh

- Am I done?

- Honestly I’m sure I’ll come up with more things eventually.

[pinkalexlive]

“I think you and Ellie have demonstrated you aren’t worth the effort,” Uncle Paul said, his voice low.  He’d approached Paige, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. 

She stepped away, instead.  She was crying, now.  “I thought you’d at least play fair, Peter.  Maybe you have to be loyal to Ellie because you grew up with her, but I thought you’d be fair, with me.  We’re supposed to have a connection.”

“You hear about twins eating one another in the womb,” Peter said.  “Maybe I got some of your brains, huh?  Because that’s fucking stupid.”

Paul no!

Peter no!

Paige stared at him, incredulous.  Then she slapped him, hard.

It was the catalyst for this entire thing to become a full-on fight.  Not sniping one another, not lacing casual statements with words meant to cut.  Shouting, Aunt Steph trying to grab Paige, and Paige ducking out of reach, running instead.

Damnit Peter! Minus cousin points for all this!

“Molly,” the man at the door said.  “She’s asking for you next.”

Wait, is the grandma still alive? I thought she was already dead.

“It’s my turn,” I said.  “I’m Blake Thorburn.  Go after Paige, Molly.  I don’t think I’ll be long.”

“Cutting in, Blake?”  Callan asked.  “I think you were lying, about not wanting any of this.”

I gave him the finger.  When I looked, Molly gave me a nod, before breaking into a run to chase Paige.

Callan loses a point, and Molly gets a point!

Grandmother doesn’t look like someone who’s about to die.   The room smelled of flowers and fresh air, from the windows that opened just above the garden.

Oh shit she’s alive!

She had been propped up in a sitting position in her bed, leaning against an arrangement of pillows.  She was dressed in an old fashioned nightgown that extended to her broomstick-thin wrists, her hair tied back in a tight bun.  Her eyes were sharp as they studied me, and her hands were steady as they raised a teacup to her lips.  Her nurse stood to her left in his scrubs, her lawyer to her right was an Indian man in an immaculate suit.  Her cat, maybe the largest housecat I’d ever seen, gray and well groomed, lay with its head in her lap.

If the creepy house and hag-ness wasn’t a sign she was a witch, the cat is.

“Well, this is refreshing,” she finally said.  Her voice was clear.  Not an old person’s voice.  Certainly not a ninety-year old’s.  “It feels like all the rest of them are dressed like they can’t wait for my funeral.  Or maybe they’re too cheap to buy two outfits for the occasion.”

“With all due respect,” I said, picking my words carefully, “I don’t give a flying fuck, you disgusting, evil, rancid cunt.”

Blake damnit don’t piss the hag off

“I think that’s crude,” she said.  “A more civilized person would use words to attack me.”

Lemme guess. We’re gonna have magic spells with verbal components?

“What words are going to matter?  What am I going to say that’s going to make an impact on you?  Honestly, what am I going to do that’s going to make you recognize even an iota of the pain you’ve caused everyone out there?”

“And the pain I’ve caused you?” she asked.  “You’re most likely right, I suppose.  There’s very little that someone could say that would shake me.”

I’m probably not supposed to like the hag, but I like the hag.

“You’re scum, and you’re the one thing at the root of everything that’s going on out there.”

I wonder what she did to cause that. Bad parenting? Magical side effects? Or is Blake just being pessimistic?

“You took advantage of those things, making all of this one big fucked up game.  Laying down the rule, that only one person gets the property and the millions from selling it.  Then you say it has to be a grandchild-“

“My children are useless,” she said.  She was so dismissive and casual about it.

“-And then you drop the bomb that it has to be a girl.  You broke up this family, you did it strategically.  You set us tooth and nail against one another, and now you’re enjoying tearing the others down, ruining their hopes.”

Is she looking for an heir to her witchiness? I’d bet the property doesn’t just include the house. If Paige gets it for some reason, it’d explain why she’s involved in magic. But then how does Blake get dragged in?

‘Rich’ turned my way.  “I can offer you a cup as well, if you promise not to throw it at her.”

“Don’t offer me anything, then, thank you,” I said.  I looked at my grandmother.  “I don’t want anything she has to offer.  Not tea, not the inheritance-“

“To clarify,” she said, “I’ve stressed repeatedly that it’s a female grandchild that will get the inheritance.”

I like Rich and the grandma. They’re very sassy...

“I’m not about to rule out the fact that you’re messing with us, grandmother.  I could see you handing something over to Callan just to see our reactions.  Not to mention the trouble I’m having with the ‘I’m dying’ bit, which you’re doing a really bad job of selling.”

If anything I’d said had an impact, it was that.  I could see the faint amusement drop away from her.  “Are you accusing me of being a liar, Master Blake?”

Since I sorta know about the whole no lying thing, I’d wager being called a liar is a higher insult than Blake understands.

“I consider myself honest, if nothing else.”

See?

She sipped her tea, winced at the heat, licking her thin lips with her tongue, and then leaned back against the arrangement of pillows.

“You remind me of my father,” she said.  “He had passion, and an interest in justice.”

“He also fucked his cousin, if I remember right.”

She smiled a little.  “You heard of that?  Yes.  That would be him.”

This goddamn family.

“Not an option,” she said.  She stroked the cat, scratching him at the lowest part of his back, just in front of his tail.  “The house stands.  I’m picking the young lady who I feel can look after it.”

The house has some kind of spell. Maybe a seal keeping demons or other magical baddies away? Maybe the “neighbors” are baddies that can’t hurt the family because of the house’s hypothetical seal. Calling it.

“Look me in the eye, then, if you’re so honest, and tell me you don’t.  That you don’t get some measure of glee or satisfaction out of this.”

She looked me square in the eye.

Yet she didn’t say a word.

Yep, she can’t lie. I don’t know if it’s can’t lie as in literally can’t or if she has to consciously be honest, but yeah.

“Blake,” she said.

I stopped, my hand on the doorknob.  I regretted it the moment I paused.

“When you first spoke to me, you said, ‘All due respect’.  Did you mean it?”

I didn’t look at her.  “All due respect, you’re a festering old cunt?  One hundred percent.”

Wideboat and his foreshadowing. I know there’s some hidden message there I don’t quite get. Maybe that’s what makes the grandma choose Blake or something? Calling it.

But I dozed, my eyes half-open, a bit of a burden lifted from my shoulders.

Welp. There’s a chapter break here, so I’m gonna leave it here and pick it up either later today or tomorrow. I’m gonna have to find a way to make this faster, because we’ll never finish this story at this rate.

[mlmdarkfiction]

[ points gun ] all of the horror asks

*insert joke abt the Gun Kink anon here*

Slasher Film: What are some of your favorite scary movies? I fucking love the Chucky movies. Which is ironic because as a kid was terrified of them (although I think that’s more due to my father tormenting me with Chucky and I was around maybe 3 or 4 so), I mentioned before I really liked Oculus even though it’s not a “slasher film” it is a scary movie so? And obviously I fucking love the Evil Dead movies. 

Jump Scare: What is a fear that you have? A fear that I have hm. It’s hard because the older I get the less I’m afraid of impractical things. Empty bathrooms is one that gets me, and I know for a fact that fear comes from my father making me watch IT as a child because of the bathroom scene, and aside from that I think I’ve mentioned I still get uncomfortable hanging my legs off the edge of a bed because something can grab my feets (Thankfully I sleep currently on quite literally a mattress on the floor so that’s not a fear I’m confronted with often)

Haunted House: How much would it cost to get you to stay in a haunted house? So I not only believe in ghosts, but believe I’ve had experiences with them. That being said, ya boi broke as fuck and has been homeless. I know the worth of a dollar. 5$ bucks a night and I’ll stay anywhere, haunted or no.

666: Do you have a lucky number? Not really? Although when it comes to having to pick I’m partial to evens. 

Bloodbath: Baths or showers? Both have their downfalls. Uhhh I’m gunna go with bath, even though I don’t enjoy baths, just because were my legs are fucked up and I can’t stand up very long on my own without my leg braces there’s less chance of me hurting myself if I take a bath lmao. 

Found Footage: Have you ever posted a video on YouTube? God this is embarrassing as fuck but in elementary school I made Sonic AMV’s that were INSANELY popular. 

Scream Queen: Are you dressing up for Halloween this year? Probably not. The people I used to celebrate Halloween with (working on a haunted trail, going to their halloween anniversary party, ect) are no longer in my life as my brother broke up with one of them so :/ Last year I worked on their trail though with a weird Amanda/Leather face type character I came up with. And then for the actual Halloween Party I went as Taako from the DND podcast The Adventure Zone. 

Here’s my butcher costume from the trail though. I should really make an oc based around this. A DUDE TOLD ME I MADE HIS DAUGHTER PEE HERSELF on his second round through the trail and I thought he was gunna kick my ass but he seemed thrilled.

Pumpkin Guts: Do you like pumpkin spice lattes? Pumpkin spice is okay. After a while it makes me sick though. One of my alters a couple years ago ate a whole pumpkin spice roll in one sitting and I was just “Why...why are you like this”

Grave Robber: Have you ever tried to talk to a ghost? Like I said! I believe in Ghosts and believe I’ve lived somewhere haunted. That being said, we used to have a touch lamp, and I would ask it questions. The way the lamp would work is one touch is on, another touch brighter, a third touch off. So I’d use that as a scale to talk to the spirit. I don’t remember if it was two for no or one for yes or vice versa, but I’d ask yes or no questions and the lamp would react.

Claw Marks: If you could own an exotic pet, what would you choose to have? Ahhhh I dunno. I had pet rats for a while there and they’re very good boys. I don’t think I’m a big pet person on my own maybe.

Cryptid Sighting: What cryptid fascinates you the most? I answered this one already!

Cult Gathering: Are you a part of any organizations? Nope! I am a very boring individual.

Friday the 13th: Do you like to go out or stay in on Friday nights? Uhh I feel like I’d probably enjoy going out on Fridays if I had anything to do or money or friends but I’m an under 21 year old broke college boy with no irl friends so usually I stay in and just stream movies with friends?

Devil Horns: Are you an angel or a devil? Well if my forced extremely religious upbringing has taught me anything it’s that I’m the devil!

Bloody Mary: Do you have any urban legends specific to where you’re from? Aside from Moth Man originating here I don’t really know? I used to live near this weird part in the woods called Devils Chair that was supposed to be for summoning demons or some shit but was really just a makeout spot for teens. I’d pass it everyday when I walked home from work. I think I took nudes there once lmao. 

But nah I think WV is one of those places where everyones too worried about their methed up cousin murdering them in their sleep to worry about urban legends.

Spooky Scary Skeletons: What’s your favorite dance craze? I don’t..have one? is that a thing people are supposed to have?

Vampire Bite: Have you ever had braces? AAA leg braces?? lmao. but no not like teeth braces. I was supposed to I think as I have like...a HUGE gap between my front teeth but ?? 

because we all know I’m bad at medical care I don’t think I saw a dentist as a child, and the last time I saw one was three years ago when the pain from my wisdom teeth was so bad i caved and had to get them taken out. 

Butcher Knife: Can you cook? Somewhat ? I mean I can. I’m not totally confident, but I can like cook enough to survive ya know?

Possessed Doll: Are dolls creepy or cute? It honestly depends. SOME DOLLS JUST GIVE OFF BIG HAUNTED DOLL ENERGY other dolls are bapy must protect. It just depends on the doll. 

Witches’ Brew: What would be put into a potion to summon you? why would anyone want to summon me oaidknsa

chunks of obnoxiously covered lipstick moss a fabric swatch of a hawaiin shirt And a koolaid jammers

[fsouth-park-is-imaginative]

The angels are watching

Yandere Kenny chapter 1.

The cafeteria was loud. The people around us didn’t see her. They didn’t care, they went on with their day, their simple routine, their lives unchanged. It was as if my mother had died and I was faced with the realization that the world around me did not stop.

The world around us will stop for nothing as simple as death or murder or love. The world will not end with something as simple as the whims of one person. One person, that holds myself in their hands. The people surrounding us did not see the angel at the far table, face buried between the pages of a book.

Her eyes dance lovingly run over the pages of whatever she decided to read today. It was different each day, she read quickly and got over the stories. I don’t know if they held meaning to her, as they hold meaning to others. I don’t know if these books are ones she’ll remember forever or toss aside in favor of a new story. It’s her one night stand with a book, fingers caressing the pages as she turns the paper, face gazing intensely, extreme focus on something other than her. Her face is obscured between the pages of books like I want my face buried between her thighs. I want to be her one night stand, I want to wake up and have coffee with her while she learns me as keenly as if I had words printed on my skin of every thought I have ever had. Maybe I’ll tell her that I’ve put more thought into her than I have any book that has ever been published. Maybe she’ll run her hands over me as if I’m made of paper and cannot harm her. Maybe she’ll let me fuck her and marry her. And we can live happy ever after with our half intelligent children amid the woods in solitude.

It took her all of five seconds to put her book down when I sat across from her.

“So, I guess it’s not a page turner?” I asked sheepishly, head tilting briefly towards the book on the table. Her paper coffee cup seemed so cute next to it, like something out of a cheesy instagram post. I hated it.

“What makes you say that?” She quirks and eyebrow. Her whole face seemed larger than life, larger than me, larger than anything I could possibly understand.

“You aren’t reading it now.”

“No, but that’s not indicative of the actual novel. If anything, it means I find it odd that a complete stranger is intruding on my reading time.” She said it fast. Damn, see? Smart. I laugh, trying to put her at ease.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I just want you to know that I think you are absolutely stunning.” I say to her. She does a double take

“What?” Both eyebrows raised, she looks reminiscent of a headshot, the way models do.

“Yeah. Too bad I can hardly see you with that book in front of your face all the time.” I joke.

“What, this?” She picks up her book to show me the cover. It sounds like a porn genre.

“Yeah. What’s that, Lo-lee-tah?” I ask, sounding out the foreign word. She looks down and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yes, um. It’s a classic.” She says finally. I can barely hear her, with her voice aimed down at the floor like that.

“A classic? What’s so classic about it?”

“Well, classics are books that are popular with many people and have stayed in popularity for many years.” She answers. How unsatisfying. It must be porn, she keeps dodging the question.

“I know what classics are. What’s Lolita about?” I try to be civil.

“It’s a love story.” She says simply.

“Ah. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a hopeless romantic,” I smile “Hey, this is a coffee shop meet cute isn’t it?” I’m flirting. She blushes slightly. Not many people blush when I flirt with them.

“Hopefully, uh, you don’t have me pegged for anything yet. You don’t know anything about me.” She’s not wrong. I don’t know anything about her. But I know that she reads and she likes coffee. I see her every other day, she picks up books like a player picks up girls. She wears modest black clothes, either because of self esteem issues or maybe because she’s part of a subculture. She reeks of danger with her five-foot-tall-in-socks frame and scowly eyes. Her deep set eyes are rimmed with lack of sleep that she wears like a Tammy Faye does eyeliner. It’s nice, and I like the way they discriminate.

“Hello?” She asks. I snap out of my obsessive reverie.

“Oh, hey, yeah sorry. Kinda wandered away there for a moment. Anyway, uh, so Lolita, huh? That’s the one about the English teacher, right?” She blinked.

“Yes. It’s truly beautiful, it just… it’s so, so disturbing. Its gimmick is that the reader is supposed to sympathise with the main character, whos a pedophile. But it’s a horror novel, you know? But regardless of original intent, it seems so creepy to me!” She stopped. “Sorry, uh, I probably sound really stupid to you.”

“No, no. Not at all. Tell me more, why is it so creepy to you? You say its the gimmick, shouldn’t this make you less creeped out?”

“Well… yeah, I guess so. But it’s more than that its… I can’t help but feel like the people that are supposed to enjoy the novel are part of the problem. I don’t know if it’s okay to enjoy something that’s awful just because it isn’t reality. I don’t know if it’s okay to idolize awful characters just because you’re aware that they’re flawed. After a while, their flaws become easier to apologize for, the forbidden fruit becomes less forbidden in your mind because only you have been forcing yourself away from it.” She isn’t looking at me now. I want her to look at me.

“But, maybe it’s just a story.” I reply.

“Yeah, but… it can’t be just a story. It’s got to mean something bigger to you, otherwise they aren’t stories. They’re words on a page. Writing has to speak to a deeper part of the soul…”

“I think… that either you’re a hidden pedophile, or that rant wasn’t about the book.” I say with a smile I hope is reassuring. “But yeah, I get the idea about stories.” Did I just make it awkward?

“Yeah, well um, whoops.” She says softly. “I’ve been angry lately, at certain things.”

“I can tell.” I try to match her soft tone. She looks up and I trap her in my gaze, sleep smudged eyes meeting intense dark blue. Her pupils dance around as much as they can without tugging her head along with it.

“I can leave, if you want. I was just about to go anyway.” Wrong. Her book isn’t even half finished yet.

“No, no. How can you leave without giving me your name?” I ask, tilting my head to mimic her confusion.

“It’s, uh… Alice.” She says. Oh, Alice. She who fell down a rabbit hole and hit her head on all the turns. I hold out my hand.

“Kenny. Kenny McCormick.” She takes my calloused hand with hers of flesh and soft bone. Her skin is peeling a bit near the crook of the thumb. I don’t care about it. She laughs a bit.

“That’s a douche name.” She shakes my hand with a firm grip. I use my other hand to run my fingers through my hair, a move that makes all girls hot for me. I know because that’s what makes me hot for the rest of the guys.

“Yeah, I know.” I let out a dramatic sigh, using my other, now free hand to mime a fist shake of despair. I shake the despair fist and grin. “It’s like my cousin, her name is Violet Divine. Total stripper name if I’ve ever heard one.” White trash begets douches and strippers.

“No, violet Divine? That’s pretty. I wish my name was pretty like that.” Alice says. I shake my head.

“Nah, your name is so pretty it shows on your face every time you say it. Your sheer beauty could not be contained in one form, so it leaked out into your name!” I joke with her. Her breast swells. “Alice.” I say, leaning back. I maintain eye contact, so she knows I meant it.

“I… I’m sorry fro calling your name a douche name. Because either you’re very good at smoothtalking people, or you’re a nice person. Maybe both though, you aren’t about to talk about your love for dead philosophers now, are you?”

“No, I’m not a soft boy. I’m too tough for that! Why, just the other day I listened to an Alice In Chains song.” She giggles.

“No, I guess not. Philosophy’s kind of my thing, anyway. If you were super into it, we might have problems along the road here.”

“Oh?” I joke, “Are you insinuating you want me on the road?” She looks away slightly.

“Maybe… unless you don’t want to of course. But it’s not often a cute boy knows about the book I’m reading. I’d like to make the best of it.” She says. I grin ear to ear. A real grin, not the lecherous kind I save for porno mags and back alley ladies of the night dressed in fishnet stockings and despair.

“I’ll give you my number, may I?” I gestures to her napkin. She hands me the one on the bottom, the one without coffee stains and lip prints on it. I take out my coat pen and write my cell phone number on it. I hand it back to her and she smiles again, reading it over in her mind. She mouths the numbers as she reads, it’s cute.

“Okay, well, thanks. I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t turn out to be a serial killer or something.” She’s joking, but I don’t care. She has my number, and I’ve done enough today to get her in my grasp.

“Nope. I mean, I’ve got a ton of blood in my house, but that’s just my roommate the serial killer. That won’t be a problem will it? I’ll let her know you’re off limits.” I hope that’s smooth, because to me that was pretty smooth. If it weren’t totally creepy, I’d be winking right now.

“Yeah.” She smiles. I’ve made her smile enough to sleep happy tonight.

“Yeah.” I smile. And with that, I get up to leave, pushing in my chair and giving her a salute sign with my hands.

She looks a bit sad as I walk away.

[mezhane]

JUST MARRIED (...kinda)

PART4

I was staring at my phone , nervously tapping my nails on my desk. I didn’t get a text back since I told Marina I was marrying Yixing two days ago. She was upset and I understood. I should have told her as soon as I knew ; I was her best friend and I was engaged to her cousin after all ... She should have been the first to know ... But I knew that no matter how mad she was , she will fly to my rescue if I really needed her. So I sent her a “CODE RED “ message. This is a rule we established when we were younger: no matter what we were doing or wherever we were, if one of us sent a “CODE RED” message, we will automatically have to fly to the rescue of each other. So I did that. First of all because I was so desperate for her forgiveness and attention, but also because today was quite the emergency situation. I was going to have a dinner date with Yixing. I needed my best friend more than anything.

As I was mentally preparing myself for a long scolding from her , I heard the door of my room open brutally.

“Bitch, you have some nerve texting me a “RED CODE” just to get my attention!” I smiled as I heard her voice. She truly is the best friend I have .

“Can you blame me though? You weren’t answering my texts ... Wait... “ My eyes widened at a random thought . “How the fuck did you get into my house? It’s only me here , I didn’t even hear you ring the doorbell?”

“I know where your dad hides the spare key , Mina. “ She shrugged , throwing herself on my bed.

“Wow, stalker much “ I joked, raising an eyebrow.She rolled her eyes ,crossing her arms.

“You better tell me why I’m here quick before you get smacked.”

I laugh loudly then cleared my throat.

“I’m meeting Yixing tonight, we have a dinner date .” I sighed , joining her on my bed . I bet she could see how stressed about this .

“Really?! Well I guess it really is an emergency then ! “ At this point I could see she was excited, squealing , clapping her hands and jumping on my bed.

“Why are you so hyped for? I’m nervous as shit right now, I don’t even know what to wear ! Oh my God, what am I actually gonna wear ? What would he like ? What if he doesn’t like what I’m wearing ? Shit, what if we don’t get along together? And he thinks I’m boring ? And he calls off the wedding? Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea !” I put my face in my hands then ruffled my hair . I’ve never been this panicked before .

“Baby, chill ! You’re gonna be fine don’t worry. Why wouldn’t he like you ? You’re gorgeous both inside and outside ! He’s the lucky one , trust me . “ She held my hand tight and smiled . Her smile always comforted me . “What time do you have to meet him ? “

“Uh... 7.30 ?” I said looking at my phone to check the time .

“Ok, so that leaves us two hours girl, go get in the shower, I’ll pick your outfit .” She pulled me out of my bed and threw me in the bathroom.

As I got out of the shower, she had already picked my dress. It was a mid-length deep red dress, not too revealing, just my type . She paired it with a pair of gold lace up sandals. I’m not the high heels type. Simple but effective. I smiled as I looked at the outfit . She always knew what was best for me . I grabbed the dress and changed .

“Okay, how do I look ? Good ? “ I asked spinning around so that my dress could spin too .

“You look dashing,babe . C’mon get your makeup done quick , he’ll be there soon . “

I sat down in front of my mirror and started my makeup. I was very good at makeup. Not to brag or anything, but it at always been a way for me to gain more confidence . As I finished everything, I looked at my phone to check the time . 7:10 . Twenty minutes left before Yixing comes to pick me up. Marina left a while ago, she told me to text her as soon as we left for the restaurant. I was scrolling through my phone when Yixing called .

“Hello? “

“Hey Babyface, you okay ? “ Hearing him calling me that always made my heart beat faster .

“I’m good Xingie, what’s up ?”

“Um...actually, I know we were supposed to meet at 7:30, but ... I’m already there ,so...”

“You’re there already ?? Eager to meet me ? “ When exactly did I gain the confidence to talk to him like that ?

“Yeah, I guess I was ...” He chuckled lightly. “You ready yet ? Or do you need some more time ? “

“No I’m ready, I’ll be right out !” I was the one sounding eager now .

I looked at myself one last time in my mirror then grabbed my things and headed downstairs. As I was walking towards the door, I looked through the kitchen window and noticed him . I thanked God that the lights were off in my house so he couldn’t see me watching him . Creepy, I know , but don’t we all do that ? I watched him closely and saw him tapping on his steering wheel. Was he nervous to meet me ? Or was I just imagining that to make myself feel less nervous ? I eventually decided to stop stalking the man and got out of my house. I made my way to his car and knocked on the window so that he could unlock the door for me. He obviously was deep in his thoughts because my small knock made him jump in surprise. He relaxed and smiled then unlocked the door when he saw me .

« Did I scare you Xingie ? » I said laughing loudly .

“Nah, I was just... thinking of something “ He answered, clearing his throat.

“What was it ? Something bothering you ?” I was genuinely concerned.

“Don’t worry about it Babyface, it’s work related, and I tonight isn’t about work. It’s about us . “ He said grabbing my hand. I simply hummed and smirked at him . He was always so smooth it was almost annoying.

“You ready to go , love ? I bet you’re mad hungry huh? You always are !”

“Sweet.” I spat raising an eyebrow as I feigned an offended face.

“Shit... I didn’t mean this way, I don’t mind you eating a lot at all... I mean you’re a little chunky but...Fuck! No, listen... what I mean is-“

He was interrupted by me laughing out and clapping my hands . I know it was bad to play with his nerves like that, but I couldn’t help it .

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” He asked smirking.

“I’m sorry , Xingie, but I couldn’t let this occasion pass like that ! Boy, you should’ve seen your face !” I added laughing loudly again , fanning myself to prevent the tears to stream down my face.

“So that’s how you play huh? Just wait till we actually get married, baby , I’ll get you back for sure ...”

His last sentence made me widen my eyes and stop laughing. I cleared my throat and shifted into my seat. It was something about him, Yixing always had this “goody two shoes” vibe, but to me there was always that frightening yet very sexy thing about him. I bit my lip and patted my face, so it could cool down a little bit .

When we arrived to the restaurant, Yixing parked his car and got out quickly , telling me not to move . He ran to my door and opened it for me , offering his hand to help me get out . I rolled my eyes at his cheesy gesture, but I would lie if I said I wasn’t loving every second of it. I stood up in front of him and he gasped .

“What ? What’s wrong , Xing ? “ I panicked, looking around us .

“Nothing, you just look... really good. It’s umm... very sexy ...”

“Really, it’s too much right ? God, remind me not to let your cousin ever choose any of my outfits for me ... “ I whined, pulling at the dress in the areas where I felt exposed .

“No! It’s not too much , actually it’s just showing enough to leave something to my imagination...I love it ! Marina chose this you said? Wow, remind me to thank her ...” He said winking at me .

We made our way into the restaurant. It was a really fancy Italian restaurant, not the type of place where I would normally go to eat with my friends .

“Hello, welcome to the Tripletta !” The man at the reception cheered for us . He was tall and very good looking. I must say; if I wasn’t with Yixing, I would probably be all over him . Yixing must have noticed that, since he came closer than me and put his hand on my lower back.

“Hello, we have a reservation under Zhang, for 8pm ? “ He said , sternly bringing me closer .

The man smiled at Yixing, then smirked at me , telling us to follow him. He guided us to our table and handed us the menus , without refraining himself to take a good look at my clevage . Yixing cleared his throat and thanked him politely. I could tell he was fuming.

“What’s wrong Xingie? “ I asked as if I didn’t notice he was mad.

“Nothing.” He frowned, ruffling through his pockets . “Here, wear this . “ He handed me a small blue jewelry box .

I opened it, already knowing what it was . The ring was beautiful. Very small with a little yet very noticeable diamond on it . Very simple . It was only an engagement ring after all . I took it out and placed it on my finger .

“It’s beautiful,Xing.”I looked up at him and smiled.

“You like it ? I’m happy then . You deserve it . “ He could be so sweet sometimes . “Where is yours ? “ I asked innocently. He raised his hand to show me the silver circle around his finger. I could feel myself smile sheepishly .

“Alright , are you ready to order ? “ The tall handsome guy was back . Uh-oh . Yixing shot him the fakest smile ever and nodded . “Yes, I’ll take the seefood pasta , please .”

“Seafood pasta, alright, and for you, Miss ?” He said in the most suggestive way possible, smirking at me . This was becoming to make me feel very uncomfortable. Yixing must’ve seen it .

“You just don’t know where the limit is do you ?” He said, undoing a button on his shirt .

“Excuse me ?” The waiter was glaring at Yixing like his life depended on it . “I’m just being bold, that’s it .” He rolled his eyes at Yixing... At this point, I was mentally praying for the boy because I knew Yixing couldn’t take disrespect very well.

“Well, there is a fine line between being bold and making people uncomfortable, it’s sad to see you don’t know where to draw it. Now, if I were you , I’ll watch my mouth when I’m talking to her . “ Yixing sat back on his seat properly and kept staring at the waiter , as if he was waiting for him to act up to jump him. Gladly, he didn’t have to.

“Anyway, what can I get you , miss? “ My throat was so dry at that moment. I hated being the center of attention.

“Um.... I-I’ll just take the same as his ... thank you...” My voice was wavering and I had completely lost my appetite.

“Alright, anything else? Drinks maybe ?”

“No that’d be it .” Yixing answered calmly then slowly looked at me and smirked. “ Actually, yes, bring us your most expensive bottle of champagne ! We just got engaged. “ He added , holding my hand tight, for the waiter to see.

Fortunately enough, the rest of the dinner went pretty smoothly, jokes flowing, him flirting with me in the cringiest way possible and me trying hard not to react to it ... We finished our meals and he drove me home . I told him I didn’t mind spending more time with him , but he insisted on bringing me home early, saying he should respect my dad and not make me stay outside at this time of the night . As we arrived at my house , he stopped his car and stared at me .

“You had fun tonight baby ? I’m sorry for the way I reacted with the waiter ... Was I too much ?” He looked worried .

“No , don’t worry, I really enjoyed tonight! But, to be honest, you were a little too much... I can defend myself you know ?” I pouted unconsciously.

“I know that very well, love. But I can’t help it . I don’t really like people thinking they can take what’s mine away from me .” He rubbed my cheek .

“What’s yours? Am I yours now ? “ I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He just smiled at me and put his hand on my knee. “You are , babe...” He kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear .”All mine. And you’ve always been.” My eyes widened at this.

“What?! W-what did you just say?!” I must’ve had the most confused look on my face . He chuckled at my expression.

“You’re adorable... go home baby, and text me before you go to sleep and when you wake up in the morning, ok ? Don’t leave me hanging like last time ...” He pointed a threatening finger at me .

“Okay Xingie, I won’t.” I answered avoiding his gaze .

“Bye,gorgeous.” He said as I got off . I just gave him a final smile and closed the door .

The lights were all off as I got home . It wasn’t late, but I figured out quick that my parents were sleeping. I tiptoed my way to my bedroom and proceeded to get ready for bed . I urged to take my phone with me and texted Yixing

[Me 10:30 pm]

Xingie, did you get home safe ? I’m about to go to bed . Thanks again for tonight, I really enjoyed spending time with you!

I decided not to wait for his answer and turned all my lights off to go to sleep. I jumped as soon as I heard my phone buzz .

[Yixing 10:36 pm]

Yeah , I’m home, I’ll go to bed too. Don’t forget I won’t be here for a few days I gotta be away for work . One week max, then I come back and we’ll go watch a movie , yeah ? Go to sleep I’ll talk to you in the morning,princess .

I pouted as I read the message. I was so happy that for a minute I forgot how complicated the situation was . I forgot where Yixing and I came from. I forgot our marriage was never gonna be simple , let alone normal.

[Me 10:42 pm]

No I didn’t forget, one week max ? I’ll take your word for it then ! And I get to choose the movie , yeah ? Come back soon, don’t let your wife hanging, ok ?

His answer was almost immediate.

[Yixing 10:45 pm]

I never will .

I smiled and put my phone away . Marrying Yixing was probably the best life choice I’ve ever made. I knew I was going to be in a relationship with a man that respected me as much as I respected him . Yes, this was the best for me... But how was I gonna be able to handle all the dirty work he does and the rougher side of him was what worried me the most .

[49scribes-a]

{--Starting the day off with some quotes from the last stream and then working on drafts!--}

TAKING THE MORNING SHAFTS WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT.

I mean... shifts. Totally shifts.

I feel like I'm being shafted tbh.

God that singing ghost lady ruined my life.

Agh, my leg, why does my leg hurt?

It remembers the fear.

Have my gun out. Ready for it... not ready for it. Let's be real here, I'm not ready for it.

I know... HO, I know what's around there.

I hate that I know something's gonna attack me and I know I'm gonna freak out and shoot it and those-- THOSE, are gonna fucking come back to life and attack me too.

Preemptively shoot them. Double tap for the fucking idiot who came before you and didn't.

GET THE SHINY. ALL THE SHINIES.

Oh there's something under that car. And there's also a shiny there.

Mmm, do I want it? Decisions decisions.

Time for me to like, Die inside.

Don't get up, gimme your brain juice.

You... got that brain juice. From his ass.

What is that. Its shiny.

Go grab it. Go hug it.

Fuck that lady. She got herself into this mess.

Yes.... extract their anal juices.

I mean snot.

I mean...

Totally brain juice. Right right.

Shoot her anyway. Shoot her for having a crappy hairstyle.

You start doing some freaky shit like the padre I'm gonna shoot you.

Oh god she's a crack addict. Run. Run far away.

She's on crack or meth -- either way its bad.

I read sebastian as satan.

Sebastain as Satan? How the Hell Isa? Hello though.

I dunno but I think she's about to change and I don't like it.

It gave me an angle and I don't like the angle.

Mobius Dick.

Meth does that to a person. Meth. God. Its such an obvious thing.

I'm serious. Don't fucking start turning into a thing. I'll shoot you. This is a small ass house.

And god that fucking thING. I DIDN'T THINK THAT THING WOULD BE THIS EARLY. W H Y.

GO CLOSER. I CAN'T SEE IT. WHAT IS IT. I KNOW IT WILL PROBABLY KILL YOU BUT I WANNA SEE IT.

OH MY GO-O-O-D. WHY. W H Y. WHYYYY.

That place is glitching out and I don't like it.

This place looks cozy.

Marco? Better not be a fucking polo around here.

MMMMMMMMMMMM YO. Um...

That door is locked. Why is that door locked.

THAT SCREEN WASN'T ON.

It was the asbestos.

That's me. I told you what I planned to do to the house.

I don't like the way the lighting is... I don't I don't I don't. I don't like... the way the lighting iiiiss. Its locked. WHY. *GASPS* OH JESUS CHRIST.

Its fine -- you just walked in on a man getting his viagra.

Oh god.... ooooooh god.

Ur fear. It fuels me.

I DON'T WANT IT. IF THERE'S ANYTHING BEHIND ME I DON'T WANT WHAT YOU'RE SELLING.

ok but. demonic girl scouts.

YOU MOST DEF DO WANT WHAT THEY HAVE.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMM...... HMMMMMMMM. SPRINT IT, SPRINT IT, SPRINT IT.

Hey look is that me? I mean Sebastian... is that Sebastian from Beacon? That's so weird? Something better not come out of the blood I swear to god-- don't do it, DON'T DO IT. OHMYGOD.

Little demons that want to sell you death cookies.

yeah but they'd taste bitchin in the few minutes before you died horribly.

Were those... tentacles. Because I know where this is probably going if they were.

Just... break your mic Bianca. Just straight up shatter it.

We all know.

Ok thank gods.

Straight up the ass.

No. Keep those tentacles away from me.

I know that definitely wasn't there before.

Anything else in here that I need, before I go? Besides ANOTHER HEART ATTACK.

Yaoi hands?

You know that lady in the first game with all the spider arms and long claws? Yeah, that was her. I recognize those claws.

OH. I KNOW. I KNOW HER.

YE. DAMN. I HATE HER. If she appears in this one, I'm going to riot.

THERE BETTER NOT BE ANYTHING ELSE WAITING FOR ME OUT THERE BECAUSE I WILL SHOOT IT IN THE FACE. You all dancing over there across the street? That's fine because I don't want you ANYWHERE NEAR ME RIGHT NOW.

The void.

WHAT IS IT. GOD.

Oh a shiny.

I bet it was weed. Sebastian out here picking up bad weed.

Whatever. Whatever whatever whatever, I'm just hearing shit.

OH NO. NO NO NO NO. WHY IS SHE HERE. I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE HER AGAIN. UNTIL CHAPTER 7.

She just wants your scalp.

She wants you. She thinks you're her lover. She's the clingy girlfriend.

That's horrifying.

OH MY GOD SHE DO THAT FAST MOVEMENT SHIT, NO, NO, BYE.

That noise was behind me... that noise was behind me, right? ...that wasn't behind me.

I don't know what's going on but someone's having a rough old time in there.

Someone is having a bad time in the bathroom. They need laxatives.

Oh hello, there's two of you. How the fuck did you get in here?

Bye to your fuCKING HEAD. Bye to yours too.

Why is there a pile of dead bodies here now? This wasn't here before. This game keeps changing and I don't like it. I'm afraid to see what I'm gonna find down there now.

Watermelon head steve.

Tfw ur mom calls u "allen" and u don't know why but brb

Porn. Its their porn.

Nah it'll be singing ghost this time.

Yodel-a-yeehoo. Nothing?

Nobody down here and this is what I came to get. This is what I risked my fucking life for.

Please... please... please don't pop up again.

FUCK this house by the way. Like. Fuck this house.

BTW. MY WORK PLACE HAS RAT TRAPS SO I GUESS THEY HAVE VERMIN PROBLEMS, AND THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY BC IF I SEE ONE OF THOSE FUCKERS IMMA GRAB IT WITH MY BARE HANDS AND WOW THE WHOLE STORE. UP MY PAY GRADE -- I CAN CATCH RATS MAH SELF. They keep getting into our soda syrup specifically. Idk why.

I wanna buy my own soda syrup so I can just... put it on pancakes.

I don't think its that kind of syrup.

Try anything once.

Exactly. Especially once if its toxic.

Hey man its your life.

And quite possibly your funeral but u know. Have fun. Yolo.

You guys can all stay the HELL away from me big thing. Don't want it.

PRO TIP. SINCE THERE'S A MILLION SUBWAYS ALL OVER THE GD PLACE. THEY HAVE LOTS OF BAGGED PICKLES AND JALAPENOS AND BANNA PEPPERS AND SAUCES JUST... RIGHT THERE. RIPE FOR THE TAKING. And they last quite a while in the bags.

What is that? Is that like a milkshake bar?

Its a SKYSHIP. STEAMPUNK TIMES. Wait hold on. Airship.

The mile high club.

Shoot em in the ass. That'll teach em.

She's your stalker gf. U will be hers or u will not have the chance to be anything else.

Ditched out on your date with her. What else did u expect.

That's fine u didn't want to know what it was anyway.

Standing in the bushes. A great strategy. I love bushes.

She def didn't hear that.

Can he ghost through walls. Can she open doors.

Bushes are friends.

Glitching blood. Same.

I know she can go straight through doors I just hope she doesn't go straight through this fucking door.

Mood.

She's coming for you.

Go away lady I don't want what you're fucking selling.

She's not selling anything -- she wants what you tried to sell her. Your heart.

Hige you're not helping.

The cold is mood too. Its fucking freezing in my room rn.

The dead man is mood. The dead man and his glitchy blood -- hella mood.

Okay its not helping that my controller is also doing this weird pulsing vibrate and I don't like it.

He's not dead, he's just resting. Oh my god.

Go out there and just. Run.

Run and don't look back.

There she be.

Something just mOVED. IN MY ROOM. I'M F FREAKCING. S C R EAMS. Oh nothing moved. I moved that earlier. Okay we're good.

Seriously can someone just look up how long these encounters last because I don't know and I don't think she's supposed to be following me around but maybe its just me and she's just like "HEY YOU YOU'RE JUST SPECIAL".

She's a betta fish. Look at her dress. Betta fish.

Or maybe she's a friend. She sings songs. She's friendly. She just wants to make you happy with her singing.

She has all them arms for hugs.

I'm holding my breath for u.

Just keep moving. She can only be behind you right.

I mean. She could be. Above you. Or under you.

My waifu. She's gone.

Damn that bitch really needs to stop harassing me.

File a restraining order.

Oh that sounds like a good time.

Shot it in the face.

He laugh at u.

What r u doing. Don't run into it.

w ha t he f cuk. I sjt. c chOEKD O N MY PIZ A.

I hate to be the one to tell you this but... acid beats knife.

Don't die isa.

Su ch en cour a gng wor d s.

b i tch you better run.

WHAT WAS THAT.

Note to self... electric bolts work WONDERS on those things.

Dang. No creepies in the crates.

I'd rather have the ghostie boo instead of that... fleshy thing.

Sounds like they got into the firecrackers again.

He angery. HULK WANT OUT. LET HULK OUT.

Hulk's weak bitch ass cousin.

You're dead right? Like, one hundred percent? Because... if either of you get up. You DEFINITELY better not get the fuck back up again.

Hulk's disappointed in his cousin.

I am doing a concern, friend.

You don't like any noise, Bianca.

You're right Kit, I don't like any noise, because noise means bad stuff.

I've figured out why its so cold in my room. The ghost lady has come to me. I'm embracing it.

She has come to hug u.

Yes.

She has many arms for tight hugs.

GOod. I like hugs.

Technically they're like. Sashes or something. Like a gd betta fish.

Betta fish lady ghost. I wanna muse her now. Bettafishghcst would be the url. She's coming 4 u, Lavi.

That fucking laugh tho. "nyA HA".

Why would u do that 2 Lavi.

Bc I love him.

mAN I WANT SOME COFFEE.

Coffee is nasty. Ya'll are nasty.

Wow. Not if you put enough cream and sugar and flavoring in it.

Cappuchinos are where its at.

Nah still nasty.

It doesn't taste like coffee anymore-- wOW.

Coffee is the devil's brew.

Uuuuuh this place looks no bueno.

The devil's brew and the devil's lettuce. Le go. How many other things does the decil have. Devil*

No its decil now.

Does the devil live on a farm in the country?

BEELZEBUB HAS A DEVIL BUT ASIDE FOR MEEE, FOR MEEEEEEEEE, FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Devil butt. Fuck yea. Thanks beez.

I... I meant. put. gOD DA MN I T. FUC KK.

Gotta face ur fears Bianca. Face them like a man. A big, burly man.

A bara. Have those huge yaoi hands.

Someone's gassy.

I hear something... where is it? Oh no. NOOO. ITS THIS BITCH. Why.

ITS A CLICCCKEEEERRRR.

Called it.

Even in assumed death, they have a knife. Relatable.

YEET.

BLOW OUT HER UTERUS BIANCA.

SHE. EATS. BULLETS.

Back. I got sour patch. Hopefully I don't end up choking on it.

Sour patch to soothe your soul.

Like I choked on me fucki n pizza?

You know what she reminds me of? The um... Witches from Left for Dead?

"YOU STARTLED THE WITCH".

And y'know now I can't get back up so this is it. This is me, gonna die and regretting it, doing it a lot.

"You startled the witch" my ass, more like-- WHOA, that startled me. More like you have a death wish.

Best friends kill each other before the apocolypse.

Good thing Lavi and Doug aren't friends then huh? Kek.

Lavi and doug tb-- i'm.

Oh wait. : >

I... sorry Bianca, I have to leave because SOMEONE'S being mean to me. Jk. I'm staying but gD.

They're having a rave. GLOWY EYES RAVE. *BEAT BOXES*

Oh look there's a ladder... there's a tripwire too. God damn it, where's the camera?

U lived. I CAN'T BELIEVE.

That's bad luck.

I hate how tight it is and that I'm not seeing whatever is seeing me. I hear heAVY BREATHING.

That's not heavy breathing -- its purring.

Its Doug. He's coming for u.

o h. nOT DOUG.

SURPRISE.

MY SON ISN'T LIKE THAT. MY SON JUST WANTS AFFECTION.

STRANGER DANGER.

Don't blow urself up.

Hallejulerr.

The green juice is fuji dew.

You're dead, right? You're not dead, I'm not gonna bother you right now.

Evil train. tHERE'S SOMETHING IN THAT TRAIN.

I love the editions of the flies in this game, but the lack of maggots and decay is upsetting.

That's a big rat.

I SAW IT MOVING. I KNEW IT WAS THERE.

She's busy freaking over the rat.

I haven't seen someone so upset over a rat since my mom found a mouse in her pillow.

She's just mad cuz her tanning bed turned her into jerky.

Head splodey.

You woke them up. What the fuck that was rude of you.

I mean, you're alive. I consider that a silver lining to this whole situation.

I keep expecting more gouls in a box.

Ghouls in a box, much like kittens in a box, but now with fifty percent more mauling.

Only fifty?

What, is fifty percent mauling not good enough for you? Is this years model of ghouls not violent enough? GOD KIT, not everyone can keep up with your strict mauling standards.

Oh come on my mauling standards aren't that high. I just assumed this wasn't the world of Hello Kitty or MLP.

How safe is O'Neal's safe house, really?

You can service me any time bby.

Probably cuz you got cockblocked by the ghost lady lmao.

She wants u to stay that bad. She's such a sweetheart. Clingy and murderous, but a sweetheart.

Oh that looks like a fun time. Let's walk right into the squiggly room.

Hey look its the slow mo brain juice again.

Its just a bullet to the brain m8. Aint that bad. I've taken a few of those.

U mean Fuji juice. Wait.

Tropical punch.

I meant fuji dew.

Blah, can't read with this-- Damn it sour patch. You're ruining me.

Ur gf is coming.

Please nothing come at me-- YOU'RE A FITCH.

It blue but it not cold.

Um... see THAT I don't like.

Excuse you. That is called abstract art. And it is gorgeous.

THAT SCREAM.

All I heard was the sound of my ears imploding. And then silence.

Its the sound of forgiveness.

Its neato.

Screaming and then silence.

OKAY CARL. Get out of here.

Okay phone?-- not cool.

No save -- we live and scream and die like men.

Don't get caught by the ghost lady in all that distance ; >

Wing it like a birb. Caw caw.

Sitting here making noise in rl with the desperate hope it gets you caught somehow.

midget shadow.

Children are omens of death. Do not follow the pitter patter of feet.

Can confirm. Just look at Colette.

DON'T TALK ABOUT MY DAUGHTER LIKE THAT.

Too easy, Isa. Too easy : >

I swear to god nothing better crawl out after me. I will throw my controller at the TV and then regret it.

U think a door will save you? Ur a stupid bitch.

She's... probably dead. Just like. nEVER MIND.

Ur waifu awaits.

I really hope nothing is waiting for me. Other than those things across the field-- where'd they go? ....Wheeerre'd they gooo?

That earlier growl says there probably is.

Okay now I'm concerned, there were... things. All of the things were-- okay where are they. They were rIGHT THERE.

Maybe you got lucky and they just despawned.

That's what we thought about the ghost lady kek.

Your "why"s just now kinda sounded like the ghost lady's "la la"s.

That's way too man <3s.

She ain't going anywhere. Driving me nuts with your hunkering in one spot and standing still.

So much for "no ghost lady until chapter 7"

Well too bad Hige I'm not prone to run gung ho like "HEEEYYY".

Well you either run or you die so its really just up to your personal preference.

M8 that is too red to be days old. That is five hours at best.

I have this love hate relationship with kids because part of me is like "satan spawns" but then I just. want to protect them. Like what the fuck is wrong with me.

I hate kids and I have no desire to protect them.

And you are 100% faking death good sir.

There's another little statue here, but I-- don't wanna be here anymore, BYE. Yep, don't wanna be here. Don't wanna, don't wanna, don't wanna.

He didn't see shit now.

*sighs* That body kinda twitched and it was nasty how it did it.

Good job Bianca. Can't climb up a damn ramp.

Please stop yelling. Stop yelling.

Ew. Ew. I mean its a little cool, but ew.

I don't like not having shotgun shells. Shotgun shells are like my security blanket.

Sebastian, please, take the steps like. Two at a time.

Nothing is ever "just a light" kek.

"Another doll" how many dolls this fucking kid have?

Who died? Who you? Randall Figg.

WHOA. OKAY. That hallways gone.

ITS THE BAE.

That's a tentacle monster.

I've seen enough hentai to know where this is going. Well. I've heard of enough hentai to know.

I have actually seen enough hentai to know.

Sin city poppin up round here.

Are those human centipedes?

SHE FOUR LEGGING IT.

Oh my god there's more things here. O'Neal. Even though you're an ass, at least you gave me stuff.

I wanna lick every single window in this place. I'm not sure why, but I just want to.

[rhiannon-a-christy]

If Tomorrow Never Comes ::: Part 1

 The world around Darcy was silent but for the chirping of birds and the distant roar of cars traveling down the old dirt road. There was a chill in the air that wasn’t just from the dense fog hanging heavy over the field. Darcy pulled her jacket tighter around herself, hoping that the old leather would somehow block out the cold and despair filling her up.

  Jane watched from the car, her back pressed against the rusted metal. She sighed as her friend trudged through the tall weeds in a pair of worn blue jeans.

   “You don’t have to do this, you know.” Jane had tried to talk the younger woman out of coming, but Darcy would hear nothing of it.

   “I have to see it… I… Jane you don’t understand, I just have to.” Darcy had spent weeks trying to explain this to her friend after she had returned, but how could Jane ever understand? She hadn’t been the one to go, she hadn’t been the one to lose her heart… and lose everything.

   Ignoring Jane, Darcy walked the last few yards. The toe of her boot tapped against the edge of a stone sticking up from out of the weeds. She swallowed down the lump forming in her throat and crouched down to run her fingers over the stone. It had once been swept clean, the weeds curling around it plucked away. But over a hundred years had whittled away at the rock, now she could barely make out the two names that had been roughly carved into it.

   Forcing away the tears she stood and walked around the house. The years had not been kind to it, the roof had fallen in long ago and the thick wood walls had pitted and splintered with age. What windows were still intact, were encrusted with a thick layer of grime. She desired nothing more than to step beyond the threshold and walk the steps of a life long ago, but she knew the floorboards would be just as rotted as the roof.

   Rounding the side of the house she came to a stop. The window, built a bit lower down than the others, led into the kitchen. It had been one of the busiest rooms in the house, always filled with the aroma of fresh baked pie and bread. He used to come in after a long day on the ranch, make teasing comments about the heat and the lack of a need for clothing, steal a biscuit and plop himself down at the table.

   Darcy pressed her hands into her eyes, willing the images to stop. Maybe Jane had been right, maybe this had been a bad idea. Instead of hightailing it back to the car as she should have, Darcy leaned into the wall and ran the sleeve over the window.

   Through the now dirt smeared glass she could make out several bundles of roses hanging from the ceiling. It had been a habit that had formed during the years. He would bring her flowers from the sparse garden and she would hang them in front of the window to dry. Her favorite blooms would be cut from the brittle stems and placed inside a crystal cut glass box he had brought back from a trip to Boston. She figured the box was probably still sitting on the vanity top in their room. It was where she had left it when… when…

   Darcy pushed away from the wall and rushed back to Jane. After rounding the house her foot caught on the marker stone and she went tumbling to the ground. She stayed in the dirt, her knees burning from the fall. But any pain it caused was nothing to the one she felt in her chest. She took in huge breaths, tears falling without her permission. For the world it had been over a hundred years, but for her it had only been three months.

   What had been the point of it all? Why had this happened to her, why when this was the outcome?

   Since she returned she had often wished that none of it had ever happened. Over and over she had tried to think on how she could have avoided it all. The pain, the heartache.

 --------------------------------------------

   It had all started when she had agreed to spend the holidays with Jane’s family. Of course, Jane hadn’t told her that meant staying in an almost two-hundred-year-old house in the middle of nowhere. The woman conveniently left out her uncle’s old family estate.

   Darcy had been left to her devices for much of the time, what with Jane trying to deal with all her cousins. To alleviate some of her boredom she had gone exploring. This was her first mistake. In the movies wasn’t it always the people that explored old houses on their own that disappeared?

   Her exploring brought her to the upper most room. It had been closed off, everything inside covered in dust and cobwebs. She had marveled at the pretty little trinkets laid out atop an old dresser. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched since the Victorian ages.

   She had run her fingers through the dust, taking time to pick up one item or another. Finally, she came to the closet. Slowly she opened the door, expecting to find old clothes. Instead there was only a lone bundle of dried roses. Behind the brittle flowers was another door. This one bolted shut. For a moment she felt like she had been transported inside one of her favorite books. There was the insane thought that if she stepped through that door she would find herself in Narnia.

   Laughing at the absurdity of it, she reached for the lock. The rusted metal broke apart and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. She had no idea what she expected on the other side, but she was disappointed when all it revealed was a dark, empty storage area.

   She took a step back, turned, and nearly fell on her ass when she noticed the room around her. Everything looked the same as before, only every speck of dust and grime was gone. The whole room looked fresh, as though it had just been cleaned. Impossible of course, or at least that was what Darcy kept saying to herself whenever a new thought rushed through her head.

   From downstairs she could hear laughter and the faint sound of a piano. She blinked. She had remembered an old piano stuffed in the corner of the drawing room, but Jane had said that it hadn’t worked in years. Actually, her uncle had gone off into a story about the damned thing. According to him the last time the piano had been played was back in 1885. It had been at the wedding of a family friend that the piano had been broken, or really shot. The groom had made some rather dangerous enemies, ones that didn’t care about hurting innocents as long as they got their man. Darcy remembered seeing the bullet holes, she had even made an inappropriate joke about holy music.

   The piano music grew louder as the door opened. Darcy blinked as Jane appeared… dressed in a rather frilly dress with her hair piled up in curls atop her head.

   “Oh Darcy, what are you doing hiding away up here? I know you dislike dances, but Papa went out of his way. The least you can do is show up for your own birthday party.” Jane stood in the doorway, gloved hands pressed against her hips.

   Darcy blinked again. Nothing about what just came out of Jane’s mouth made sense. Her father had died years ago, and Darcy’s birthday was months off.

   “And what are you wearing?” Jane looked Darcy up and down, her mouth thin. “You have got to stop stealing the farmhand’s clothes. People will talk. Come on, I’ll help you get ready.”

   Darcy remained silent as Jane dressed and groomed her. She was quiet as the other woman pulled her out of the room and down the stairs. She said nothing as Jane maneuvered her from room to room. But when she was finally pushed into a room filled with various dancing couples she found she could no longer hold her tongue.

  “What the fuck?!”

  -------------------------------------------------------------------

   Author’s Note: So, like I really needed to do this. I have so many work in progresses it isn’t funny. But I’ve had a been several weeks and I needed a western au. And so here it is, a different kind of western au. I also might be stuck on the whole Darcy gets transported back in time thing, so have one where she gets sent back to the old west.

   This will not be a long story, maybe three or four parts, and I’m thinking it will be Wintershock, mainly cause I just really want some Wintershock right now. Plus, Cowboy!Bucky! Come on!

   And the part at the beginning with the old house and roses is inspired by a story my grandfather told me. When he was younger, back during the Depression, his family lived with an aunt and uncle of his on their farm. It had been his favorite place, and his favorite aunt. Because of different things they were forced to move. Years later after he was married he returned to the old farm house and looked in the kitchen window. Hanging from the ceiling were two bunches of tea roses. Every year his aunt would gather a bunch of tea roses from the bushes outside the house and hang them in the kitchen and let them dry. They would stay there all year and she would replace them in the summer. The house was all worn down and falling apart as no one cared for it after his aunt and uncle died, but years later those roses still remained in the window. I admit, I cried when he told me the story. I still do.

 This is also inspired by the scary doors in the back of my closet that leads to a creepy dark storage area. Too bad all they actually lead to is lots of wolf spiders and not Cowboy Bucky.

 Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

[eyeliveinabook]

Letters from the Unexpected. Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader (2)

Part 1

Sirius wanted to believe that it was you because to be honest he was starting to grow feelings for you. It has been two months since he figured out it was you. He is honestly to nervous to ask you, but he has noticed that since you have had a major homework increase, he receives less letters. Now maybe once every three nights. He had come up with a great idea to make sure it was you. He had Moony and James help him turn a sleeping pills into a cherry. By help what really happened was Moony and James argued about what spell to uses while Sirius was at a tutoring session with you.  Later at dinner James, Remus and Peter teased Sirius mercilessly. Hey the player finally lacked confidence when it came to a girl? Oh he would never hear the end of it. “Okay I get it mates, it’s humorous that I won’t ask (name) out.” He whispered yelled. “Oi! Are you boys still teasing him?” Lily laughed.  “I’m so happy y’all are having a wonderful time laughing at this issue.” Sirius sarcastically stated while drinking his pumpkin juice.  “Look this never happens, we are going to take advantage of it. Speaking of advantage the snake should be passed out.” Remus said.   “Did you kill it?”  Lily shrieked. Everyone in the who hall turned, curious to what Lily meant. Sirius looked over at the slytherin table, automatically his eyes fell on (name). She smiled and waved at him. He was about to wave back when he saw Lucius Malfoy wrap his arm around you. “Oi mate you may have waited to long.” James stated. Sirius just sighed and listen to the conversations his friends where having. To top everything off Scales didn’t drop off a letter. Sirius just changed the cherry back into a sleeping pill and took it then just layed on the bed. By the time the rest of his friends got to the dorm, he was passed out, snoring loudly. 

In the Slytherin common room everyone was gathered around playing Cards against humanity. Everyone was enjoying themselves including (name). That is until Lucius tapped her back.  “We need to talk.” She followed into the boys dorm. “Why did you wave at Black?” Lucius asked sharply catching the attention of Regulus.  “When did you wave at me?” He asked. “No you idiot I meant your brother, Sirius.”  “I was being friendly and it’s none of your business.” You say huffing at your cousin.  “Yes it is your dad made sure that I knew I have to take care of you. I am pretty sure your family would hate it if you dated a Gryffindor.”  “Well what do you care? He is a friend plus my dad told you that when we came here in our first year.” You walked out of the room and went to yours to spend sometimes with Scales. 

The next morning Regulus went to look for his brother which wasn’t that hard to find. He was sitting alone in the morning waiting for breakfast. “What are you doing up so early?” He asked sitting down. “What are you doing here?” Sirius questioned back. “Fine be like that, I just wanted to let you know that you are on Mafoy’s hit list. In fact you might be number one.”  “Wow what made me surpass James?” Regulus rolled his eyes, of course his brother wasn’t taking this as seriously as he should.  “Look Sirius, I am not in the mood to find out you got in a fight with him. Just don’t make any moves on (name).” He whispered since more people were coming to eat.  “Moves?  Wha-” He started. “Sirius I know you have some sort of feeling for (name). I do watch you.”  “That’s creepy bro.” “Hey Regulus!” Snape yelled to Regulus over from the Slytherin table. Regulus got up, “I’m serous, Sirius, don’t make any moves.” With that he turned to leave as James and Peter sat down.  “What the hell was that about?” Peter asked.  “Nothing just family drama. Told him to get lost.” Sirius said as he poured syrup on his waffles.  “Hey I turned another pill into a dead mouse for the snake.” Moony said.  “Why do it now?”  “Well (name) has probably figured that Sirius might suspect something so she probably changed the time for the little demon to go in our room.” He paused, talking a long sip of tea while his friends stared at him, “Plus I saw the snake slither under Peter’s bed when I came out of the shower.” Peter shivered, “God I hate snakes.”  Returning quickly to the dorm Sirius opened the boor and sure enough Scales was passed out next to the letter. Sirius picked up the letter to read it. Dear Sirius, This is going to be the last letter. I don’t want to get into the reason why is it.(Which made Sirius thing of Malfoy.) I’ve decided to forget about us being together in anyway. I know for a fact that I’ll never fess up, and you wouldn’t even want to date me when there are other girls who will do anything to be with you. I feel like maybe these letters were a mistake. Honestly I just hope you forget about me. That would probably be better.  Goodbye love, Your Slytherin Girl. Sirius grabbed the sleeping Scales and the letter stuffing it in his pocket. Gently putting Scales into a bag, he raced down to class.

You were sitting on the table that you and Sirius would study together. The teacher had told you that today was going to be the last day you had to tutor Sirius. Your leg raced up and down as you anxiously worried about your cute little Scales. You hope nothing happened to him. Sirius finally came in the library and sat next to you. Before you could open your mouth, Sirius handed you a bag. Curiosity got the better of you as you looked in and saw a snoozing Scales. To say you were shock would be an understatement. You were relieved that Scales was okay, but worried that he got caught delivering the letter.  “I was wondering where he got to.” You say to Sirius putting the bag between your feet on the floor. “Yeah crazy story I found him knocked out on my desk. Any idea why?” Sirius tried hiding his nervousness. “I don’t know, I did fall asleep last night before putting him back in his cage. He probably went hunting around the castle and just happened to get into your room. I am glad you found him, could only imagine what the girls in Ravenclaw would do if they found him.” “I don’t think hunting was the only thing he was doing.” Sirius took the letter out of his pocket and slid it over to you. Caught! he fucking caught you red green handed. You but your head on the table in shame if you could turn into a snake and slither away into a dark corner that would be amazing. Sirius put his arm and your back, rubbing it.  “Get your hands off my cousin Black!” Malfoy threatened. Correction now you wanted to just turn into dust and hide in a cornor. “Lucius, stop over reacting. Him and I are studying.” You say as you stare at your book. “Yeah Lucius noting is going on.” Sirius said smirking. “THen why are you smirking?” “Because I was just about to ask your cousin if she wanted to go to  Hogsmeade this weekend with me.” You dropped your mouth open and stared at Sirius as if he was crazy. Quickly you nodded and threw your arms around him. Lucius just clicked his tongue and left mumble something about it being Potter’s fault.  So to say that your date went wonderfully would be an understatement, you enjoyed being with Sirius so much that when he asked you to be his girlfriend you said yes while jump hugging him. Sending both of you falling to the floor. Laughter filled the air,,,until Sirius noticed a Stag grazing closely with a mouse on its head, watching both of you.

Extra ending: Dear Sirius, I am writing to you because I am shocked at what has happened. Moony told me everything and I begged Dumbledore to take little Harry. Right now Harry is asleep next to me. He is an angel. I am sorry about what happened to James and Lily. Moony is going to help me raise Harry so he knows the truth of what happened. Of course when my family found out that I was Harry’s guardian they threw a fit along with all of things out the door. A few days ago my mother came over to apologize and asked me to come home. I asked her what was the cost(You know how she always wants something). She requested that I stop seeing/writing to you. After I slammed the door in her face I started working on proving your innocence. Moony and I are going to talk to the Ministry of Magic on Monday along with Regulus. We believe we have enough to free you. Hagrid is going to come and watch Harry for a bit, that man loves Harry. Well love I best be off. Love Your Slytherin Wife. P.S. Scales says hi.

Sirius chuckled at the letter noticing that the ding went off letting him know that the blueberry muffins were finished. He put the letter in the box and hid it on the top shelf, away from you. As he set the table, little Harry woke up with his hair messy and glasses crooked. When the door bell rang Harry got it immediately yelling.  “Pads! It’s Uncle Remus!” Harry said as Remus came in with an owl in a cage. “Moony what on ear-” Sirius starts. “Hey this boy still need an animal, the train leaves tomorrow after all.” Remus defended as Sirius ran up the stairs to the room you and him shared. When you finally got out of the shower and dressed in a Slytherin shirt, you started laughing at the sight before you.  “Sirius Padfoot Black and Remus Moony Lupin, how dare you show Harry the marauders map...without me!” Harry had the biggest smile on his face as Remus explained the map to him while you started chasing Sirius who had turn into a dog. Harry knew Hogwarts was going to be a blast.

Tags: https://hidd3nfangirl.tumblr.com/ https://hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades.tumblr.com/ http://ruefulposts.tumblr.com/ https://davros2004.tumblr.com/

Man I am actually proud on how that turned out. Request are always open. 

[pratktcven]

bloom

bloom part one. heith. pg-13. in which keith is a florist and hunk is a tattoo artist. thanks to @faorism and @blackcatbone for the beta! also available on ao3

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Keith is hiding behind one of the larger floral arrangements in the window when the bell above the door rattles. The sound startles him so much that he yelps and takes a sudden step back. Shiro—who walked into the shop carrying a tray of their morning coffee—freezes at the unexpected noise. They stare at one another, wide-eyed, before Keith straightens and attempts to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Shiro blinks.

“Good morning,” Keith says, aiming for nonchalant and missing by miles.

“Hey,” Shiro responds. “What are you—?”

“Just checking out the hydrangea arrangement,” Keith responds. The words come out of his mouth so quickly that the syllables slur together into an incomprehensible soup. Keith winces internally and thinks, So much for subtle, even as he repeats himself at a slower pace.

“Riiiiight,” Shiro drawls skeptically. His expression is doubtful but he accepts the obvious lie without further prodding. “Anyway, I have your latte and your cherry danish. Do you want me to put it in the back or are you going to eat it right away?”

“I was just about to strip the roses,” Keith answers.

Shiro nods and sets Keith’s breakfast on the large work table in the center of the room. Keith wants to walk over and devour the pastry—he hasn’t eaten since late afternoon yesterday, when he microwaved some leftovers in his tiny apartment kitchen—but he forces himself to actually check the arrangements in the window display. He doesn’t know why. His cover is already weak and he checked them last night before closing.

“Oh, and Keith?” Shiro says.

Keith uselessly adjusts a delicate sprig of tree fern and grunts, “Yeah?”

“If you’re going to spy on the guy across the street, you might want to find a new hiding spot.”

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Several hours later, after the newly arrived roses have been stripped of all their thorns and some of their leaves, Lance swaggers into the shop. He is dressed in a deep blue button-down, pale gray slacks, and polished shoes. It is his typical attire when he has to deliver for special occasions.

“Hey, mullet man,” Lance greets as he pulls his wayfarer sunglasses off and perches them atop his head. “Shiro in the back?”

Keith barely spares Lance a glance, focused on transferring some wrapped boutonnieres into a small box. Each one is a unique blend of succulents, flower buds, and filler. It was Keith’s first time trying to wrangle such a combo into such a small arrangement, and despite his experience, he pricked himself more times than he is willing to admit.

“Careful there,” Lance comments airly. “Don’t want to ruin all your hard work.”

Without taking his eyes off the arrangements, Keith hisses, “I will murder you.”

Lance smirks. Shiro hired Lance about three years ago as a part-time delivery boy—as Keith preferred to stay at the store and Shiro could only carry so much with one arm—and in that time they have developed a small rivalry. At least, that’s what Shiro calls it. Keith calls it Lance being as annoying as possible.

“Hey, Lance,” Shiro calls as he exits the backroom. He is dressed similarly to Lance, though his shirt is white and his slacks are olive-brown. “Is the van ready?”

“Yep!” Lance pops the p and jerks a thumb at Keith. “Just waiting for Slow Poke McGee over here to finish.”

Keith refrains from rising to Lance’s taunt. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the years, it’s to ignore Lance as much as possible. He also says nothing because Lance is right; Keith won’t admit it to Lance, but he should have spent less time daydreaming about the hot tattoo artist across the street and more time focusing on his work.

“We can start with the arrangements and the bouquets, then,” Shiro says, gesturing Lance over. There are ten table-toppers carefully placed in three carrying trays, one bridal and five bridesmaid bouquets in a repurposed dishwashing rack, two enormous arrangements in heavy vases for decoration, one flower crown, and a bag of pale green rose petals. Lance immediately picks up one of the heavier trays. By the time they have everything loaded, Keith is finished with the boutonnieres.

“We’ll be back in a couple hours,” Shiro tells Keith. “You’ll be okay?”

“I’m sure I can handle a few walk-ins,” Keith assures him. Keith is polite to customers, if not a little awkward. As long as no one tries to make a lot of small talk or asks too many stupid questions, he’s fine. “Besides, it’s Tuesday. We’re dead on Tuesdays.”

“Alright, alright.” Shiro smiles. “See you soon.”

Then, with a two-fingered salute from Lance, they’re out the door, and Keith is alone in the shop.

.

Keith works in silence for the next half hour, trimming stems and cutting filler. He and Shiro have another wedding to cater for at the end of the week, but there’s only so much he can do before his shipment of white anemone, grape hyacinth, and tallow berry arrives. So instead, he focuses on an enormous centerpiece for one of the shop’s regulars.

The bell tinkles as Keith contemplates throwing in some succulents he had left from the wedding party. He calls out a greeting absently.

“Hi,” a deep voice responds.

Keith’s mental visualization of the echeveria among the dusty miller and pale pink hydrangea is instantly interrupted by curiosity. Very few men visit Once and Flor-All, and those that do are usually either teenage boys buying their first corsage or awkward husbands looking for anniversary presents. When Keith looks up, however, he is met with neither.

When Keith looks up, it’s the tattoo artist from across the street.

“Hi,” Keith squeaks. Heat immediately washes over his entire face. He hopes he isn’t as red as the celosia bundled on the table, despite knowing from experience that he probably is. “I mean—uh—welcome? Hi. How can I—shit.”

His hand accidentally knocks over a plastic vase filled with the roses he stripped earlier. The roses stay intact but water gets all over his workspace. Keith curses again as he grabs the vase and sets it upright.

“You okay?” the guy asks, stepping closer to the square table that takes up the central space of the shop.

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs, keeping his eyes down as he snags a roll of paper towels and cleans up the worst of it. The prep table is almost always slightly damp when in use, and spilling a little water isn’t the end of the world. Keith is just flustered.

“Sorry,” the guy continues, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted—sorry.” There is a small cough. “Ugh, I’m really sorry. Do you want me to go?”

Keith dares a glance at the man he’s been spying on since the tattoo shop opened two months ago. He’s big and tall, with hair in thick waves down to his bare shoulders. Nearly every inch of his exposed skin—his throat and collarbones, his biceps, forearms, and wrists—is covered in geometric lines and angles of varying thickness. Keith had not been able to tell from a distance, but up close, the detail in his tattoo design is extraordinary.

“No,” Keith says slowly.

“Okay.” The other man smiles and reaches out with his free hand. His huge palm makes Keith’s look tiny in comparison. “I’m Hunk Tuaolo. I work across the street.”

Keith means to reply with his own name, but instead he responds with, "I know.” He realizes how creepy that sounds right after he says it and immediately tries to backtrack. “I mean—I didn’t know your name before but I know you because I’ve seen you go into the shop a couple times? Not because I’ve been spying on you or anything but—okay, I mean, I was curious when the new strip opened, but it wasn’t just you! I spied on all the shops and—god, that sounds so creepy, I swear I’m not a stalker, I just—I just really need to shut up, god.”

Stilling his tongue and closing his mouth takes a lot of willpower. Keith rarely rambles—he is more a man of action than a man of words—but he tends to word vomit when he’s nervous.

Great, Keith thinks sarcastically as he bites down on the inside of his cheek with his molars. Now the hot guy across the street thinks you’re a fucking weirdo. Way to go.

Hunk, however, does not give Keith an odd look. His wide smile remains as he says, “It’s not that creepy. You were just curious. Also, like, it wouldn’t have been cool if another flower shop invaded your turf.”

Some of Keith’s nerves settle at the understanding in Hunk’s tone. Keith knows he can be awkward. The only people he interacts with regularly are Shiro, Lance, and Allura, as well as the other members of his dojang. Shiro doesn’t count as practice for social interaction since he’s Keith’s cousin; Allura is more of a boss than a friend; and the other men at the dojang are ten to fifteen years Keith’s senior. The only person Keith communicates with that is actually his own age is Lance, and Lance likes to verbally despair of Keith every chance he gets.

“Anyways,” Hunk says after a small, stilted pause. “I actually came over to ask a huge favor of you.”

“Yeah?” Keith prompts.

“Well, I have this client who wants a floral sleeve done,” Hunk explains as he pulls a large, spiral-bound sketchbook out from under his arm, its corners dog-eared from use. “She has a couple of flowers that she wants incorporated—king protea and roses, actually—but otherwise gave me a lot of free rein. And I’ll be honest with you, I’m an angles and lines kinda guy. Flowers are a little outside of my comfort zone.”

Keith’s eyes dart back to the precise lines inked across Hunk’s skin. Briefly, he wonders if the design is Hunk’s own or if it is another artist’s vision.

“I mean, I could google bouquets, but I don’t like doing that,” continues Hunk. “It feels like I’m being disingenuous. Which is stupid, I know. Everyone gets tattoo ideas from the internet nowadays. But, like, it’s my job to make it authentic.”

“I understand,” Keith says. A lot of people come into the store with pictures on their phones, which is fine to start; it’s the people that insist on an exact replication that frustrate Keith. His job is to create, not copy. “So you need help constructing a bouquet?”

“Yes,” Hunk says emphatically.

“Okay,” Keith answers. “Well, I can tell you right now that I don’t have any king protea on hand. That’s a rarer flower that needs to be special ordered. I do, however, have a lot of other foliage that will work with it. Did your client say what kind of roses she wanted?”

“No.” Hunk shakes his head. “Just roses.”

Keith nods once before he walks over to the cooler against the back wall. After opening the door, he confidently grabs blue thistle and white wax flower, seeded and silver dollar eucalyptus, laurel-leafed cocculus, peonies, and pale cabbage roses. He only picks a stem or two of each, then brings them over to Shiro’s side of the prep table.

“There,” Keith says after he’s gently arranged them on the uncluttered space. “In a bouquet, the king protea is generally in the center or bottom right.” Then he continues, pointing to the respective plants as he talks, “The cabbage roses and peonies are also going to be centered or adjacent to the the king protea. The blue thistle and wax flowers are filler for any gaps, and the rest would be used to frame the flowers. Be careful with the seeded eucalyptus, though; it’s pretty drapey.”

“Wow,” Hunk says when Keith has finished his explanation. That one syllable makes Keith realize that he probably went overboard, something he knows he tends to do.

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Those are just what I would use if I were making an arrangement. I can use something else if you don’t like it, or—”

“No!” interrupts Hunk. “No, Keith, no—this is super awesome, thank you. I’m really impressed. Like, I know you work here, but like, you didn’t even have to think about what I needed. Are—are all the arrangements in the shop yours?”

“Most of them.” Keith can feel his cheeks heat up for the third time in less than ten minutes and curses his fair skin. “Shiro—my cousin, he owns the shop—he isn’t great at it.”

That is an understatement. Shiro is okay at re-creating bouquets from photographs, which is what he did before he hired Keith, but he’s terrible at making something from scratch. Now Shiro only puts the simple stuff together, such as the ever popular dozen roses.

“That is really cool,” Hunk gushes as he steps closer to the prep table. “These textures are amazing.”

Keith has a hard time looking at the bright sincerity of Hunk’s smile, so when he mutters, “Thank you,” he says it to Hunk’s massive shoulder. Not that it helps. The muscle in Hunk’s arm tightens beneath his skin and Keith’s mouth instantly goes dry.

“Mind if I sit here?” Hunk asks. He gestures to the side of the table Keith carefully laid the flowers down upon. “To sketch them? I mean, I can just take some pictures if you don’t want me taking up your space. I know some people work better with privacy.”

“No,” Keith says as he tears his eyes away from Hunk’s enormous biceps. “I’m good.” He clears his throat as he becomes aware of how strained his voice sounds. “You can stay.”

“Dude, you’re a freaking lifesaver,” Hunk praises as his smile grows impossibly wider. “Seriously. I know it sounds weird, but it’s so much easier to get a feel for something in real life than from a picture. And all I know about flowers is that they’re pretty. So thanks, man. Thank you. You’re really saving my butt.”

Keith’s embarrassed blush deepens. It is not an attractive look for him—his blushes are stark and they fill in splotchy over his flat cheeks—but it feels as though that’s all he’s been capable of doing since Hunk walked through the door.

“Yeah, man,” Keith mutter, ducking his head in a futile attempt to hide the redness from Hunk’s eyes. At this point, the other man probably already thinks he has some sort of skin condition, or is part tomato. “No problem.”

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part two

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[dargeereads]

CHAPTER 1 WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?

WREN I slip onto the empty bar stool beside the lumberjack mountain man who looks like he tried to squeeze himself into a suit two sizes too small. He’s intimidatingly broad and thick, with long dark hair that’s been pulled up into a haphazard man bun  thing. His beard is a hipster’s wet dream. His scowl, however, makes him about as approachable as a rabid porcupine. And yet,  here I am, sidling up next to him. He glances at me, eyes bleary and not  really tracking. He quickly focuses on his half- empty glass again. Based on the slump of his shoulders and the un co or di nated way he picks up his glass and tips it  toward his mouth, I’m guessing he’s pretty hammered. I order a sparkling water with a dash of cranberry juice and a lime. What I could  really use is a cup of lavender- mint tea and my bed, but instead, I’m sitting next to a drunk man in his thirties. My life is extra glamorous, obviously. And no, I’m not an escort, but at the moment I feel like my morals are on the same kind of slippery slope.

“Rough day?” I ask, nodding to the bottle that’s missing more than half its contents. It was full when he sat down at the bar an hour ago. Yes, I’ve been watching him the entire time, waiting for an opportunity to make my move. While he’s been sitting here, he’s turned down two women, one in a dress that could’ve doubled as a disco ball and the other in a top so low-cut, I could almost see her navel. “You could say that,” he slurs. He props his cheek on his fist, eyes almost slits. I can still make out the vibrant blue hue despite them almost being closed. They move over me, assessing. I’m wearing a conservative black dress with a high neckline and a hem that falls below my knees. Definitely not nearly as provocative as Disco Ball or Navel Lady. “That solving your problems?” I give him a wry grin and tip my chin in the direction of his bottle of Johnnie. His gaze swings slowly to the bottle. It gives me a chance to really look at him. Or what I can see of his face under his beard, anyway. “Nah, but it helps quiet down all the noise up here.” He taps his temple and blurts, “My dad died.” I put a hand on his forearm. It feels awkward, and creepy on my part since its half-genuine, half-contrived comfort. “I’m so sorry.” He glances at my hand, which I quickly remove, and refocuses on his drink. “I should be sorry too, but I think he was mostly an asshole, so the world might be better off without him.” He attempts to fill his glass again, but his aim is off, and he pours it on the bar instead. I rush to lift my purse and grab a handful of napkins to mop up the mess. “I’m drunk,” he mumbles. “Well, I’m thinking that might’ve been the plan, considering the way you’re sucking that bottle back. I’m actually surprised you didn’t ask for a straw in the first place. Might be a good idea to throw a spacer in there if you want tomorrow morning to suck less.” I push my drink toward him, hoping he doesn’t send me packing like he did the other women who approached him earlier. He narrows his eyes at my glass, suspicious, maybe. “What is that?” “Cranberry and soda.” “No booze?” “No booze. Go ahead. You’ll thank me in the morning.” He picks up the glass and pauses when it’s an inch from his mouth. His eyes crinkle, telling me he’s smiling under that beard. “Does that mean Imma wake up with you beside me?” I cock a brow. “Are you propositioning me?” “Shit, sorry.” He chugs the contents of my glass. “I was joking. Besides, I’m so wasted, I can barely remember my name. Pretty sure I’d be useless in bed tonight. I should stop talkin’.” He scrubs a hand over his face and then motions to me. “I wouldn’t proposition you.” I’m not sure how to respond. I go with semi-affronted, since it seems like somewhat of an insult. “Good to know.” “Dammit. I mean, I think you might be hot. You look hot. I mean attractive. I think you’re pretty.” He tips his head to the side and blinks a few times. “You have nice eyes, all four of them are lovely.” This time I laugh—for real—and point to the bottle. “I think you might want to tell your date you’re done for the night.” He blows out a breath and nods. “You might be right.”

He makes an attempt to stand, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, he stumbles into me and grabs my shoulders to steady himself. “Whoa. Sorry. Yup, I’m definitely drunk.” His face is inches from mine, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Beyond that, I get a whiff of fresh soap and a hint of aftershave. He lets go of my shoulders and takes an unsteady step back. “I don’t usually do this.” He motions sloppily to the bottle. “Mostly I’m a three drink max guy.” “I think losing your father makes this condonable.” I slide off my stool. Despite being tall for a woman, and wearing heels, he still manages to be close to a head taller than me. “Yeah, maybe, but I still think I might regret it tomorrow.” He’s incredibly unsteady, swaying while standing in place. I take the opportunity for what it is and thread my arm through his, leading him away from the bar. “Come on, let’s get you to the elevator before you pass out right here.” He nods, then wobbles a bit, like moving his head has set him off balance. “That’s probably a good idea.” He leans into me as we weave through the bar and stumbles on the two stairs leading to the foyer. There’s no way I’ll be able to stop him if he goes down, but I drape one of his huge arms over my shoulder anyway, and slip my own around his waist, guiding him in a mostly straight line to the elevators. “Which floor are you on?” I ask. “Penthouse.” He drops his arm from my shoulder and flings it out, pointing to the black doors at the end of the hall. “Jesus, I feel like I’m on a boat.” “It’s probably all the alcohol sloshing around in your brain.” I take his elbow again, helping him stagger the last twenty feet to the dedicated penthouse elevator

He stares at the keypad for a few seconds, brow pulling into a furrow. “I can’t remember the code. It’s thumbprint activated though too.” He stumbles forward and presses his forehead against the wall, then tries to line up his thumb with the sensor, but his aim is horrendous and he keeps missing. I settle a hand on his very firm forearm. This man is built like a tank. Or a superhero. For a moment, I reconsider what I’m about to do, but he seems pretty harmless and ridiculously hammered, so he shouldn’t pose a threat. I’m also trained in self-defense, which would fall under the by any means necessary umbrella. “Can I help?” He rolls his head, eyes slits as they bounce around my face. “Please.” I take his hand between mine. The first thing I notice is how clammy it is. But beyond that, his knuckles are rough, littered with tiny scars and a few scabs, and his nails are jagged. “Your hands are small,” he observes as I line his thumb up with the sensor pad and press down. “Maybe yours are abnormally big,” I reply. They are rather large. Like basketball player hands. “You know what they say about big hands.” I fight not to roll my eyes, but for a brief moment, I wonder if what’s in his pants actually matches the rest of him. And if he’s unkempt everywhere, not just on his face. I cut that visual quickly because it makes me want to gag. “And what do they say?” His eyes crinkle again, and he slaps his own chest. “Something about big hands, big heart.” I bite back my own smile. “Pretty sure you’re mixing that up with cold hands, warm heart.” His brow furrows. “There’s a good chance.”

The elevator doors slide open. He pushes off the wall with some effort and practically tumbles inside. He catches himself on the rail and sags against the wall as I follow him in. I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this right now. He doesn’t have to press a button since the elevator only goes to the penthouse floor. As soon as we start moving, he groans and his shoulders curl in. “I don’t feel so good.” Please don’t let him be sick in here. If there’s one thing I can’t deal with, it’s vomit. “You should sit.” He slides down the wall, massive shoulders rolling forward as he rests his forehead on his knees. “Tomorrow is going to suck.” I stay on the other side of the elevator, in case he tosses his cookies. “Probably.” It’s the longest elevator ride in the history of the world. Or at least it feels that way, mostly because I’m terrified he’s going to yak. Thankfully, we make it to the penthouse floor incident-free. On the down side, now that he’s in a sitting position, getting him to stand again is a challenge. I have to press the open door button three times before I can finally coax him to his feet. In the time between leaving the bar and making it to the penthouse floor, the effects of the alcohol seems to have compounded. He’s beyond sloppy, using the wall and me for support as we make our way to his door. There are two penthouse apartments up here. One on either side of the foyer. He leans against the doorjamb, once again fighting to find the coordination to get his thumb to the sensor pad. I don’t ask if he needs my assistance this time since it’s quite clear he does. Once again I take his clammy hand in mine

“Your hands are really soft,” he mumbles. “Thanks.” The pad flashes green, and I turn the handle. “Okay, here we go. Home sweet home.” “This isn’t my home,” he slurs. “My cousin’s family owns this building. I’m crashing here until I can get the fuck out of New York.” I scan the penthouse. It an eclectic combination of odd art and modern furniture, like two different tastes crashed together and this is the result. Aside from that, it’s clean to the point of looking almost like a show home. The only sign that someone is staying here is the lone coffee cup on the table in the living room and the blanket lolling like a tongue over the edge of the couch. I’m still standing in the doorway while he sways unsteadily. He tries to shove his hand in his pants pocket, but all he succeeds in doing is setting himself off-balance. He nearly stumbles into the wall. “Thanks for your help,” he says. He’s back in his penthouse, which means my job is technically done. However, I’m worried he’s going to hurt himself, or worse, asphyxiate on his own vomit in the middle of the night, and I’ll be the one catching heat if that happens. I’ll also feel bad if something happens to him. I blow out a breath, annoyed that this is how my night is ending. I heave his arm over my shoulder and slip mine around his waist again, leading him through the living room toward what seems to be the kitchen. There’s a sheet of paper on the island, but otherwise it’s spotless. “What’re you doing?” he asks. We pause when we reach the threshold. “Which way is your bedroom?

He looks slowly from right to left. “Not that way.” He points to the kitchen. It’s very state of the art. I guide him in the opposite direction down the hall, until he stumbles through a doorway, into a large but simply furnished bedroom. Once we reach the edge of the bed, he drops his arm, spins around—it’s drunkenly graceful—and falls back on the bed, arms spread wide as if he’s planning on making snow angels. “The room is spinning.” “Would you like me to get you a glass of water and possibly a painkiller for the headache you’ll likely have in the morning?” I’m already heading for the bathroom. “Might be a good idea,” he mumbles. I find a glass on the edge of bathroom vanity—which is clean, apart from a brand new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. I run the tap, wishing I had a plastic tumbler, because I’m not sure he’s in any state to deal with breakable objects. I check the medicine cabinet, find the pills I need, shake out two tablets, and return to the bedroom. He’s right where I left him; sprawled out faceup on a massive king-size bed, legs hanging off the end, one shoe on the floor beside him. I cross over and set the water and the pills on the nightstand. I make a quick trip back to the bathroom and grab the empty wastebasket from beside the toilet in case his night is a lot rougher than he expects. I tap his knee, crossing my fingers he’ll be easy to rouse. “Hey, I have painkillers for you.” He makes a noise, but doesn’t move otherwise. I tap his knee again. “Lincoln, you need to wake up long enough to take these.” I cringe. I called him by name, and he didn’t offer it to me while we were down at the bar. Here’s hoping he’s too drunk to notice or remember. His name is Lincoln Moorehead, heir to the Moorehead Media fortune and all the crap that comes with it. And there’s a lot of it. One eye becomes a slit. “Every time I open my eyes, the room starts spinning again.” “If you drink this and take these, it might help.” I hold up the glass of water and the pills. “’Kay.” It takes three tries for him to sit up. He tries to pick the pills up out of my palm, but keeps missing my hand. “Just open your mouth.” He lifts his head. “How do I know you’re not trying to roofie me?” I hold up the tablet in front of his face. “They don’t say roofie, so you’re safe.” He tries to focus on the pill and then my face. I have my doubts he’s successful at either. His tongue peeks out to drag across his bottom lip. “The cameras in the hall will catch you if you steal my wallet.” I laugh at that. “I’m not going to steal your wallet, I’m going to put you to bed.” “Hmm.” He nods slowly and opens his mouth. I drop the pills on his tongue and hand him the glass, which he drains in three long swallows. “Would you like me to refill that?” “That’d be nice.” He holds out the glass, but when I try to pull away, he covers my hands with his. His shockingly blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment they’re clear and compelling. Despite how out of it he is, and how much he resembles a mountain man, or maybe because of it, I have a hard time looking away. “I really wish I wasn’t this messed up. You smell nice. I bet your hair is pretty when it’s not pulled up like that.” He flops a hand toward my bun. “Not that it’s not pretty like that, but I bet if you took it down, it would be wavy and soft. The kind of hair you want to bury your face in and run your fingers through.” He exhales a long breath. “I haven’t had sex in a really long time, but I feel like I would have zero finesse if I tried right now.” I smile and turn away. In the time it takes for me to refill his glass, he’s managed to get one arm out of his suit jacket. He’s made it most of the way onto the bed, feet still hanging off the end, but he’s on his back, which is not ideal. I set the glass on his nightstand, along with a second set of painkillers, which I’m assuming he’ll need in the morning, and give him another nudge. “Hey.” This time I get nothing in the way of a response. I poke him twice more, but still nothing. He can’t sleep on his back with how drunk he is. He needs to be on his side or his stomach with a wastebasket close by. I can’t in good conscience leave him like this. My options are limited. I shake my head as I kick off my shoes and climb up onto the bed with him. This is not at all what I expected to be doing when I brought him back up here. I stare down at his sleeping form. His lips are parted, they’re nice lips, full and plump, even though they’re mostly obscured by his overgrown beard. His hair has started to unravel from its man bun, wisps hanging in his face. He has long lashes, really long actually, and they’re thick and dark, the kind women pay a lot of money for. His nose is straight and his cheekbones— what I can see of them—are high. With a haircut, a beard trim or complete shave, and a new suit that actually fits, I can imagine how refined he’ll look. More like a Moorehead than a mountain man lumberjack. I shake my head. “I need you to roll onto your side, please,” I say loudly. Nothing. Not even a grunt. I pull on his shoulder, but he’s dead weight. Leaning over him, I make a fist and give him a light jab approximately where his kidney is. “Lincoln, roll over.” And roll he does, knocking me down and turning over so he’s right on top of me. We’re face-to-face. Good God, he’s heavy. His bones must be made of lead. He shifts, one leg coming over both of mine. I push at his knee, but his arm swings out and he wraps himself around me on a low groan, pinning my arm to my side. He’s like a giant human blanket. “How did this become my life?” I say to the ceiling, because the man lying on top of me is apparently out cold. I try to wriggle free, I even yell his name a bunch of time before I give up and wait for him to roll off me. And while I wait for that to happen, I replay the conversation with his mother, Gwendolyn Moorehead, that took place forty-eight hours ago and put me in this awkward position underneath her drunk son. I’d been standing in Fredrick’s office, still digesting the fact that he was dead. It was shocking that a massive heart attack had taken him, since he was always so healthy and full of life. Gwendolyn, his wife—now a widow—stood stoic behind his desk, papers stacked neatly in the center. “I’m so very for your loss, Gwendolyn. If there’s anything I can do. Whatever you need.” The words poured out, typical condolences, but sincerely meant because I couldn’t imagine how my mother and I would feel if we lost my father.

Gwendolyn’s fingers danced at her throat as she cleared it. “Thank you,” she whispered brokenly and dabbed at her eyes. “I appreciate your kindness, Wren.” “Let me know what you want me to handle, and I’ll take care of it.” She took a deep breath, composing herself before she lifted her gaze to mine. “I need your help.” “Of course, what can I do?” “My oldest son, Lincoln, will be returning to New York for the funeral, and he’ll be staying to help run the company.” A hot feeling crept up my spine. I’d heard very little about Lincoln. Everything from Armstrong’s mouth was scathing, Fredrick’s passing references had been with fondness, and my interactions with Gwendolyn had been minimal as it was Fredrick himself who hired me, so this was first I’ve heard of Lincoln through her. “I see. And how can I help with that?” I could only imagine how difficult Armstrong would be if he had to share the attention with someone else, particularly his brother. “Transitioning Lincoln.” Gwendolyn rounded her desk. “You’ve managed to turn around Armstrong’s reputation in the media during the time you’ve been here. I know it hasn’t been easy, and Armstrong can be difficult to manage.” Difficult to manage is the understatement of the entire century where Armstrong is concerned. He’s a cocksucker of epic proportions. He’s also a misogynistic, narcissistic bastard that I’ve had to deal with for the past eight months on a nearly daily basis—sometimes even on weekends. My job as his “handler” has been to reshape his horrendous reputation after his involvement in several scandalous events became very public. It wasn’t a job I necessarily wanted, and I was prepared to politely reject the offer, but my mother asked me to take the position as a favor to her since she’s a friend of Gwendolyn. Beyond that, my relationship with my mother has been strained for the past decade. When I was a teenager, I discovered information that changed our relationship forever. Taking the job at Moorehead was in part, my way of trying to help repair our fractured bond. The financial compensation, which was ridiculously high, also didn’t hurt. Besides, Gwendolyn is on nearly every single charitable foundation committee in the city, and since that’s where my interests lie, it seemed like a smart career move. “Since you’re already working with Armstrong and things seem to be settled there for the most part, I felt it would make sense to keep you on here at Moorehead to work with Lincoln. He’s been away from civilized society for several years. He’s nothing like his brother, very altruistic and focused on his job, rather than recreational pursuits, so he should be easier to manage.” I fought a scoff at the last bit, since “recreational pursuits” was a reference to the fact that Armstrong couldn’t seem to keep his pants zipped when it came to women. Gwendolyn pushed a set of papers toward me. “It would only be for another six months. And of course, your salary would reflect the double work load, since you’ll still have to maintain Armstrong in some capacity while you assist Lincoln in transitioning into his role here.” “I’m sorry, what—” Gwendolyn pulled me into an awkward hug, holding onto my shoulders when she stepped back. Her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed. “You have no idea how  much I appreciate your willingness to take this on. As soon as your contract is fulfilled, you have my word that I’ll give you a glowing recommendation to whichever organization you’d like. Your mother told me you’re interested in starting your own foundation. I’ll certainly help you in any way I’m able if you’ll stay on a little longer for me.” She dabbed at her corner of her eyes and sniffed, then tapped the papers on the desk. “I already have an agreement ready and an NDA, of course. Everything is tabbed for signing.” I’m pulled back into the present when Lincoln shifts and one of his huge hands slides up my side and lands on my breast. At the same time, he pushes his nose against my neck, beard tickling my collarbone. He mutters something unintelligible against my skin. I’m momentarily frozen in shock. Under any other circumstances, I would knee him in the balls. However, he’s not conscious or even semi-aware that he’s fondling me. Thankfully, now that he’s moved, I have some wiggle room. I elbow him in the ribs, which probably hurts me more than it does him. At least it gets him to move away enough that I can slip out from under him. I roll off the bed and pop back up, smoothing out my now-wrinkled dress. My stupid nipples are perky, thanks to the attention the right one just got. Probably because it’s the most action I’ve seen since I started working for the Mooreheads eight months ago. I hit the lights on the way out of the bedroom, pause in the kitchen to grab a glass of water and check out the sheet of paper on the counter. It’s a list of important details regarding the penthouse, including the entry code. I nab my purse, snap a pic, and head for the elevators. I have a feeling this is going to be a long six months     

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Helena Hunting

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

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